Restless Spirit
by Mujamo
Summary: slightly AU fic in which Filia and her adopted son Val move into a lovely seaside cottage, only to find it's already inhabited...by a certain trickster. Finally updated to Chapter 15!
1. Adventures in moving

This is a silly story I thought up while watching 'The Ghost and Mrs. Muir', which is a most excellent old classic movie. In my warped imagination I started imagining Xelloss and Filia as the main roles, and this is the result. Supposedly set in turn-of-the-century England. Major X/F hints. Watch out for angst in future chapters. 

* * *

Restless Spirit 

by Mujamo 

Chapter 1 – Adventures in Moving 

Miss Filia ul Copt adjusted her hat, squinting against the sunlight, as she looked up and around. She was hopelessly lost…having no clue where to go, and in a strange town with no one that she knew! Save her little six-year-old adopted son, Valteria. The small boy held tightly to her hand as he, too, looked about, his curious little eyes dancing to and fro; he was so caught up in the excitement. They were interesting-colored eyes…a light golden color so close to light brown that hardly anyone noticed. Her adopted son was quite interesting all in himself. Smartest little boy she'd ever known. 

He'd been left to her in the will of his family…distant relatives of hers. Filia didn't know the particulars, but according to Val, they had died soon after he was born, and so they'd given her custody of him. She'd yet to figure out why; she had never spoken to any of them and she hadn't even known of poor Val's existence. But such was life, and she was now a mother. She had to admit that he had stolen her heart immediately with his childish charms. 

But staying at home with her elderly grandfather had begun to wear on her nerves. She was one to live in the modern times, while the old coot was stuck in the past…going on about some war where he'd supposedly knocked off the entire lot of the enemy's troops, and how he had left the secret weapon safe where it wouldn't be found. He was a tad bit on the eccentric side. He was also overbearing and self-righteous, a combination that, along with the eccentricity and the fact that he was a military man at heart, Filia found extremely difficult to live with. Therefore, deciding that she was old enough to move out on her own, she did as such, much to her grandfather's chagrin. She took Val with her, who was more than thrilled to get away from his grandfather's threats against his life; apparently the old miser was convinced that poor Val was one of those 'Enemy bastards', as he put it. 

Filia shook her head, groaning and attempting to clear her head of the memories. It was good to be away from that life, and now she had her own. She was ready to take on any challenges that came her way…provided she could beat it down with her trusty parasol. It was bright pink with the most adorable lacy frills around the edge. It fit her perfectly, the pure-hearted soul that she was. It was also heavier than it looked, and also deadlier. In her hands, it was a weapon of mass destruction. 

Val tugged on Filia's hand, getting her attention. She looked down, startled, and said, "What is it, Val, sweetheart?" 

"Momma, I have to pee-pee." 

Filia turned red and embarrassedly looked around, hoping no one heard that. She was bashful about mentioning those sorts of things…or even hearing them! It just wasn't proper to do so in public. 

"Val, that sort of thing isn't proper to mention in public," she scolded. 

Val jumped up and down. "But I have to go!" he cried, much louder than before. Drawing many stares from passers-by. 

Filia groaned. "Val! Hush!" 

"BUT I HAVE TO-" 

"Okay!" Filia grabbed his arm and pulled him into the nearest building to save herself more embarrassment. She was still learning the ropes of this motherhood business…obviously she'd missed the chapter on how to keep one's child quiet in public. She was quite oblivious to the fact that every mother has this problem. 

Filia marched up to a desk where a well-dressed older gentleman was writing something. She gathered her wits about her, willing herself to banish all thoughts of embarrassment as she cleared her throat to get his attention. 

No such luck. He kept writing. 

She tried again. Still to no avail. 

"Excuse me!" she said forcefully, despairingly sure that she was losing a large bit of her composure. 

The gentleman looked up from what he was writing and stared at her. Blinked. 

"Can I help you?" he asked in a not-so-helpful manner. Basically translated: "Don't look at me, I just work here." 

"Um…" she began, not really wanting to ask him the question, but one look at Val's pleading eyes and crossed legs told her that she'd better ask or there'd be an even bigger mess than just her frazzled nerves. "I was wondering…you see…I just…well, my son…he needs…" 

The man rolled his eyes and pointed to the back hallway. "Out that door and to the left." 

Val immediately ran down the hall before Filia could utter a 'thank you'. She sighed and rubbed her temple. The man at the desk resumed writing his letter; this woman with the speech problem was not a customer, therefore he needn't bother with her. 

However, as Filia began to look around, she brightened. How fortunate! This was perfect! She silently thanked Val and his timely bladder…she'd run straight into the exact building she needed to go. 

The real estate office. 

"Excuse me, sir?" she asked again. 

"What is it now, Madam?" the man said, looking up with an air of annoyance. Filia flinched, but was not about to let this man's poor attitude get the best of her. 

"I am in need of a house," she replied. "You see, I just moved her from – " 

"Beg your pardon, Madam, but wouldn't your husband do better to decide that matter?" he interrupted with a smug look on his face. Clearly he was thinking, 'foolish woman, doing the decision-making for her husband'. 

This infuriated Filia beyond rational thought. She clenched her hand around her pink frilly parasol and pointed it straight at the man's nose. 

"I am NOT married, and I'll thank you to let me make my OWN decisions, you pompous piece of garbage! I'll have you know that I am a woman of well to do, and whether I am married or not is not your business. If you would rather not have my business, I shall seek another realtor with better work ethics." 

Filia turned on her heel and was about to leave. However, the man at the desk, once getting over the shock of having a parasol shoved in his face (which left little room for further snide remarks about her virtue), rushed around the desk and was immediately between her and the door faster than she could blink an eye. 

"Forgive me, Madam, I was not aware of your current marital status. It is obvious that you are a woman of well-to-do. I simply assumed that you –" 

"Some assumptions should not be made and should not affect business decisions, my good sir," Filia interrupted curtly. 

She could see him clench his fists and grit his teeth. His thoughts were plain: "The NERVE of that brazen woman! As if SHE has any idea what business is all about...silly foolish woman..." But it was obvious that he wasn't going to voice his opinions; he wasn't going to let her walk out of that door. Just as she didn't have any intention of leaving until she had a house; necessity before pride, she told herself. 

"So…shall we see what kind of residences you have to sell?" Filia asked sweetly. 

"Of course, Madam. This way." 

* * *

"This one would do nicely, Madam. Lavena Mont, upper Valencia Drive. Two bath, three bedroom, kitchen, recreation…I say, are you listening to me?" 

Filia was, indeed, not listening to him. He'd been going on about these houses for the last hour and half, and she was bored. Val was equally, if not more bored, as he sat fiddling with the cigar box on the man's desk…the man's name, she had discovered, being Mr. Calloway. She had still not found a house that she felt suited her. Nothing really…reached out and grabbed her, as she liked to put it. Nothing **_called_** to her…like one soul to another, or something to that extent. She shrugged…at any rate, she hadn't found what she was looking for. 

Mr. Calloway had finished rambling about the last house, and had picked up another description. Filia watched curiously as he grimaced and quickly set it aside, picking up another one. As he began reading yet again, she felt compelled to pick up the paper and read what was so horrible about this particular house. 

And as she read, her eyes brightened and a smile lit up her face. 

  
_Carlahan Cottage. Six miles outside of town. Two-story. Four bedroom. Two bath. Kitchen with stove, ice box, and pump sink. Beautiful, scenic view of the ocean, as it sits on the highest cliff in the area. Balcony outside master bedroom. A place of rest for one's soul._

She liked that last part. Her soul was in desperate need of rest. Not to mention her travel-weary body. 

"I should like to see this one," she announced, handing him the paper. He uttered a shocked gasp and snatched the paper from her hand, setting it down on the table. He looked at her as though she were a child being scolded for touching something she shouldn't. 

"That house just doesn't suit you," he said matter-of-factly. 

Indignant, she picked up the paper and said as calmly as she could, "It does suit me, and I'll thank you to let me make my own decisions, yet again." 

She picked up her parasol, noting with concealed amusement that his face went white as she did so, and stood up as though she were about to leave. He stood up as well, flustered, and asked with no concealed exasperation, "Where are you going?" 

"I wish to see Carlahan Cottage. I suggest if you want my money you'll take me to see it." 

* * *


	2. Inhabited

Perhaps I should mention that neither 'Slayers' nor 'The Ghost and Mrs. Muir' belong to me. They belong to their respective owners. 

Restless Spirit  
Chapter 2 - Inhabited

The ride to Carlahan Cottage was not the best trip Filia had ever taken. In fact, she would have preferred the loud, rickety train to Mr. Calloway's constant jabbering, his all-too-obvious staring at her chest, and Val's whining in the back seat. Filia briefly wished she'd left Val with her two servants back at the inn rather than taking him with her, but then the thought of being alone with Mr. Calloway drove that thought away quickly. 

She was also about to whack that perverted little man into next week if he kept staring at her chest. The nerve of him! Why, he was probably married, too! And here she was, a single woman with a child, possessing better manners than he ever hoped to have. It did some good for her self-confidence, but nothing for her current situation. 

"Ah, here we are," Mr. Calloway said, finally breaking off from that absurdly boring one-sided conversation to announce that they were almost at Carlahan Cottage. She looked away from the alluring view of the ocean and turned her head to see the most adorable house she'd ever seen! It was two stories high, with a white, glistening exterior, and she could see a lovely balcony where the master bedroom probably was, overlooking the ocean. The house itself sat high on a cliff, and the car clattered and jumbled them around as it climbed the steep road to the house. Filia felt excitement well up inside of her. Finally, a home of her own! 

The car stopped in front of the charming little gate and Filia immediately got out, not waiting for Mr. Calloway to come around and open the door for her. She was far too tired of being in that car. Val also climbed out and trailed after Filia as she opened the gate and walked up the sidewalk to the door, Mr. Calloway following behind Val, muttering nervously to himself. Filia smirked. 

Suddenly Val stopped and gasped. He then grabbed Filia's skirt and cried, "Momma! Momma! I saw someone in there!" 

Filia's eyes grew wide, and she glared at Mr. Calloway. "Is there someone living here, Mr. Calloway? Did you forget to inform me of this?" 

Mr. Calloway, fearing the wrath of Filia's parasol, stepped back and hastily replied, "Oh, no, Miss, there is no one 'living' here, I assure you. But I must warn you…I shan't keep this from you any longer…this house is haunted by a vengeful spirit. It's dreadful, madam, to even look upon his face. I insist that we leave now! Oh he'll be angry…yes, indeed…" 

Filia regarded the cowering man with impatient amusement. "Really, you expect me to believe nonsense like that? Please, I wouldn't have expected you to go to _that_ much of an extreme." 

"It's true! The boy saw him, I'm sure of it!" 

Filia looked down at Val, who was nodding enthusiastically. "Val, honey, are you sure you saw someone?" 

He nodded again. 

"Well…what did he look like?" 

Val thought for a moment, as if trying to remember. "Well…he had long hair. Some of it was over his face, so I couldn't see it very well. I think he was looking at me."" 

Mr. Calloway screeched. "It's him! It's him! Oh, he'll tear me to shreds; I know it. Please, I beg you, let's go find you another house!" 

Filia touched her lip with her finger and smiled thoughtfully. "Let me think. No. Val, honey, I'm sure your eyes were just playing tricks on you. If there _is_ some drifter in here, then we shall have to tell him to get out." 

With that, she swung her parasol in the air for emphasis and marched up to the door. Finding it unlocked, she went inside. 

Outside as well as inside, the house was remarkably simple in a way that Filia found most attractive. She also noticed that everything looked well kept and not covered with dust, not as she would have expected an abandoned house would look. She wandered through the parlor and through the living room, taking further note of how the furniture looked surprisingly brand-new. She found it rather odd, but had no complaints whatsoever. Perhaps there were outside caretakers of the house who wanted to continue its present condition in order to better attract buyers. It still made no sense why that idiotic Mr. Calloway tried to dissuade her because of some silly ghost story. However, there appeared to be no one there, which made her feel much safer. Not that she believed in any of that supernatural nonsense… 

Val had run ahead to the kitchen, having been bored by Filia's constant comments about the condition of the furniture. Mr. Calloway still cowered by the door, refusing to venture further into the house. Filia had no complaints about that. 

Then Val suddenly called to her from the kitchen, his voice sounding somewhat panicky. Her heart leapt in her throat as she imagined all sorts of horrifying things that could be happening to him. She instead found him in one piece, pointing to the table. 

"Val…what's wrong?" 

"Momma…look at that! Someone *has* been here!" 

Indeed, the table was littered with scraps of food and an overturned glass. Filia wrinkled her nose. The food smelled several days old, and was beginning to rot. 

"Well, whoever was here, they're not here now. Although it seems like they left in a bit of a hurry…" 

Mr. Calloway peered in the doorway, having overheard their exchange. "It's him, I tell you. There were a few people who rented this place last week, but they left without notice. Just one day up and vanished, all their belongings gone, and their automobile missing. It's his work. He's a demon!" 

Filia was at her wits end with this man's rambling. "Just who in the world is this 'him' you're talking about? Your ghost, I presume?" 

Mr. Calloway's voice dropped to a dramatic low. "He was the first owner of this house. No one knows who he is, but several people have seen him. He doesn't want anyone to live here." 

"Why is that?" Filia asked, finding herself somewhat curious. 

"They say he's got something hidden here that he doesn't want anyone to see. Either that or he just hates people." 

"Why would he haunt? Wouldn't he just rather…go away, and let others live in peace? Your ghost story just doesn't make any sense. Why on earth would I believe such drivel?" 

"It isn't drivel, Mrs. Ul Copt, I assure you!" Mr. Calloway pleaded. "This ghost, he isn't any normal ghost. Strange things have happened to the people who stay here. Scares the devil out of 'em, it does. He's evil, I tell you. From what I've heard of the story, he built this house one hundred years ago, when he came here. No one knows what happened to him, but they say he committed suicide." 

Filia stared at Mr. Calloway, then laughed. "Mr. Calloway, you certainly have an active imagination. I don't imagine that any ghost or demon or whatever is going to keep me from having this house. It's so beautiful, and it has such a peaceful, wonderful setting. I live my own life, Mr. Calloway. And I'll show this ghost that he's not going to take away my peace and quiet." 

Mr. Calloway sighed, having realized that he wasn't going to get anywhere with this stubborn woman. "If…if you insist, Ms. Ul Copt. We'll return to town and I'll draw up the papers." 

Filia beamed. "Thank you." 

The next afternoon, Filia was finally settled into the house of her dreams. There were still things to put away, but she had decided to take a break and enjoy the sights and sounds of her newfound freedom. Just the sound of the ocean outside her window was enough to bring peace to her soul, as the description had said. She had, of course, chosen the bedroom with a most charming view of the sea, which also came with a telescope! She had already spent her leisure looking out over the horizon, wondering what adventures lay in store, should she ever get the notion to simply take off one day and explore distant lands. 

She laughed merrily to herself at that thought. Sometimes she liked to indulge in silly notions like that, just for the fun of it. She knew she would never do any of the things she dreamed about. She had too many responsibilities, too many prior arrangements that she needed to accomplish. But it was fun to imagine, sometimes, what kind of adventures she could have if she weren't a woman or a mother, or if she imagined herself as the adventurous type. She would never admit it to anyone, but she had always dreamed of flying…out over the sea, the salty air stinging her eyes, the water brushing her skin. Just the thought of that gave her chills of pleasure. It would be such a thrill! 

Sighing, she tapped the telescope with her fingers. But those thoughts were absurd. Such was life. She was happy where she was. There was much to be thankful for, always. She had Val; such a delightful child. She had two wonderful servants, George and Jacob. Really quite lively fellows, they were. They were young ones, really, that she had also taken in as mere teenagers come out of a bad family situation. They were polite, hard workers, and perhaps overly loyal to young Val, which she found amusing and cute. She didn't know where she'd be without them. 

As if on cue to her thoughts, the door opened a crack and Jacob peered in cautiously. They were still so nervous around her, afraid to damage her faith in them, that they were deathly afraid of angering her in any way. She chuckled to herself. Perhaps one day they would learn to relax. 

"Yes, what is it Jacob?" she asked. "Is there something wrong?" 

"Beggin' your pardon, Miss Filia," he replied, fiddling with his hat nervously. "I was wonderin'…well you see, me an' George was wantin' to go into town to get ya some food and supplies. An' little Val said he wants ta go, too. Iffen you don't mind me sayin' so, you oughta take a nap, Miss Filia. You'se lookin' awfully tired." 

Filia smiled. He was so cute, with his thick 'downtown' accent. She patted him lightly on the head and went to the desk, where she took out a money purse and handed it to the boy. "Here, Jacob, take this purse and buy whatever groceries and supplies you think we need. Buy some ice cream for Val while you're there." 

He grinned and bowed graciously. "Yes, Miss! I certainly will!" 

"You don't have to bow, Jacob. I'm not the Queen." 

"Aye, but you're darn near to royalty to me, Miss," Jacob replied, and then ran out of the room, hollering for George to 'get ready, they was leavin''. 

Filia stared after him, then laughed again, her laugh cut short by an impromptu yawn. "My, but I am tired," she complained, to no one in particular. "I think I will take a short nap." 

Yawning again, she closed the door to the balcony and settled herself into the chair in front of the fire. Within a minute, she was asleep, lulled by the sounds of the waves and the ticking of the clock on the mantle. Aside from that, the room was still; silent. 

As was the figure in the opposite corner of the room, watching her every breath with darkened curiosity. 

His lips turned upwards into a smirk, his eyes seeming to glow in the reflecting sunlight. The shadows around him seemed to dance in ever-shifting patterns. There would have been something sinister about him, but that sinister glare had faded ages ago. The only thing left was an illusion, and the endless emptiness inside of whatever soul he possessed. All he knew was that his emptiness had filled that house…his darkness had made it his own. He had nothing left. And he certainly didn't want her presence tainting what was his and his alone. He had to get rid of her, but he didn't know how. 

He would think of something. 

He rose to his feet and went over to the side of the chair, looking down on the new inhabitant of his house. His house…not her house. She had no right to be there. She had no place there. He knew, deep within himself, that he didn't belong there, either. But she had a choice. She could have gone somewhere else. He had no choice but to stay there; it was all he knew now. All he had. 

No matter what, she had to go. 

* * *

Reviews are wonderful and greatly appreciated. 


	3. Seeing is Believing

Disclaimers: Ah...nothing belongs to me. Except this fic. But I think i've said that already.   
  
Filia meets the resident 'ghost'. Let the haunting begin!

* * *

**Restless Spirit  
**   
Chapter 3 - Seeing is Believing 

            When Filia awoke to the sound of the clock chiming, it was eight o'clock.  The sun set low in the horizon, the brilliant colors illuminating the surface of the water; the sky a canvas of the master Painter.  Dark clouds threatened to overtake this display of beauty, and Filia felt herself shiver as she sleepily gazed at this breathtaking scene.  It was yet another reminder of why she had moved there.  

            She yawned and stretched, looking around at the darkened room with mild curiosity.  She'd had the strangest dream, one that she had no idea where it came from.  A pair of eyes lurking in the shadows…a silent figure crouched in the corner, his countenance dark and sinister, yet, somehow…sad.  His intentions were no good, of that she was sure.  He had watched her sleep…

            She cringed at that thought, but tried to dismiss it.  There was no one in the corner, no hidden figure lurking in the shadows.  No glowing eyes in the darkness.  No one but herself and the quiet ticking of the clock on the mantle.  Unfortunately, she didn't feel quite as alone as she wanted to.  The memory of that menacing presence in her dreams was almost impossible to shake.

            She chided herself for being so silly.  Her dream was most likely the effect of Mr. Calloway's words from earlier that day; the cowardly, superstitious little man.  Of course, Val had claimed to see someone in the window…but that was also questionable.  Val was an impressionable little boy despite his intelligence for such a young age.  He tended to take an idea and run with it, whether it was a good idea or not.  He also exaggerated a lot, which was a good reason for to not quite believe him.  

            Filia sighed.  Ghost or no ghost, she wasn't going to allow such superstitious nonsense to enter her mind and ruin her first day in her new home.

            However, that was easier said than done.  A shift in the shadows made her heart lurch in her chest.  A sudden rustle in the curtains caused by a rush of wind through the open window made her nearly jump out of her chair.  She clutched a hand to her chest and mentally ordered herself to calm down.  

            Then the door opened with a loud 'click' behind her, and that was it.

            "AAAIIIEEEE!!!"

            She clamped a hand over her mouth, but not fast enough to stop herself from letting loose with a startled, shrill scream.  She instantly felt foolish when she saw whom the unknown intruder was, cowering against the wall across from her doorway with a horrified expression on his face.  She couldn't decide which of them looked more startled…most likely her trembling intruder, now sitting on his rear, looking very much like he was going to start crying.

            "Jacob, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed, rushing to her fallen, shocked servant and offering her hand to help him to his feet.

            "I didn't mean ta give ye a fright, Miss," he quickly apologized, handing her the empty money purse with a dejected expression.  "I jes wanted ta tell ye that I fixed your tea…"  His lower lip trembled as he fumbled nervously with his hat.

            Filia sighed wearily.  "Thank you, Jacob.  I'm not angry, I promise."

            "Aye, Miss," he answered, looking relieved.  "Did ye sleep well?"

            "I did, thank you."  Filia bit her lip.  "I had a terribly strange dream, and that's why I was so startled when you opened the door.  But it's no matter.  I was just being silly…"

            Jacob nodded like he understood, but Filia could tell that he really didn't.  He stared fixedly at the floor, clearly unable to think of anything to say, and she regarded him with an amused, gentle smile.  Then a thought struck her, and she dared to ask him.

            "Jacob," she began.

            "Yes, Miss?"

            She bit her lip again.  "I…was wondering.  Did you notice anything…out of the ordinary, today?"

            He thought for a moment, tapping his forefinger against his chin almost comically.  "Aye, now thet ye mention it, I did notice thet the lights keep flickerin' every now and then.  But I was assumin' thet the 'lectric weren't so good in this place.  Me an' George'll be fixin' it fer ye tomorrow mornin'.  'Tis gonna storm tonight."

            Filia smiled, feeling somewhat relieved.  "Yes, I think that will be good.  Thank you, Jacob.  Now, shall we have some tea?"

            ***

            Later that night, after finally getting Val to take a bath and wash the sticky dried ice cream off of his hands and face, she managed to get the still-wide-awake and rambunctious child tucked into bed.  Lying next to Val was their cat, Silver, regarding Val with an amused expression.  Val was still chattering on, clearly unwilling to let Filia go until she'd heard all about his day.

            "And we saw this really shiny red car in town, Filia-mum!  It was simply beautiful, and I told Jacob that you could probably get one.  Then you and I could go driving down to the beach instead of walking.  Have you been down to the beach yet?  It's ever so nice.  The water was so cold, I about froze my feet off!  Jacob and George wouldn't get in but they told me not to wade in, just stick my feet in.  I want to go swimming tomorrow, can I?  _Please_?"

            Filia shook her head, smiling.  "It's too cold to swim, dear.  You'll have to wait until summer."  Laughing at the sour expression on Val's face, she added, "Summer is just a hop-skip-and a jump away, Val.  It'll be here before you know it, and you'll be complaining for cool weather yet again."

            Val shook his head vigorously.  "No, no, no, I want to have hot weather forever so I can swim!  I'm so glad we moved here, Filia-mum.  It's nice here."

            "Yes it is," Filia agreed.  "Now close your eyes and go to sleep.  Perhaps you'll dream of the ocean."

            Reluctantly, Val nuzzled the pillow and increased his deathgrip on his teddybear.  "Uh uh, I'd rather see the ocean now," he mumbled, but it wasn't two seconds later his eyelids drifted shut.  Filia smiled and ruffled his hair slightly.  "Delightful boy, you are," she whispered.  "Sleep well."

            She flicked off the light and closed the door behind her, wondering what, indeed, she would do now.  She wasn't very tired, having taken a much longer nap than she'd intended to earlier.  Outside, lightning flashed, followed by a deep roll of thunder that nearly made her jump out of her skin.  She gasped, clutching her heart.  She'd never cared for thunderstorms, but they'd never made her jumpy like this.

            To make matters worse, the lights began to flicker again.  She eyed them, wondering briefly if it was really a problem with the electricity, or something else…

            "Get ahold of yourself," she said aloud, trying to calm her nerves.  "It's just the storm."

            She made her way downstairs, passing George and Jacob on their way up.  "Going to bed, boys?" she asked them.  
  


            "Aye, Miss," Jacob replied for both of them.  Filia had soon discovered that Jacob answered for his brother quite often.  George rarely spoke unless practically forced to.  She'd long since given up trying to bring the burly young man out of his shell.

            Filia smiled.  "Well, then, goodnight boys.  Sleep well."  

            "Thank ye, Miss."

            The two continued up the stairs, Jacob whispering to George something that she couldn't make out.  She grinned, thinking again that they were quite amusing in their own way.  They'd come a long way from the boys that they were when she'd taken them in.  They had been filthy, bruised from numerous beatings from either their parents or random street fights, and terribly jumpy, looking around with wide eyes as though they'd take off running any second.  Flighty as birds.  She'd had to work hard to get them to trust her fully, but they'd always given her the utmost respect.  Jacob, constantly apologizing.  George, who said nothing but would bow his head ever so slightly as though she were royalty.  This annoyed her at first, but she quickly realized that they were scared to death of her kicking them out.  No matter how much she might try to assure them that she would never make them leave, they wouldn't hear it.  They were still afraid.

            She sighed, lost in her thoughts about her two unlikely servants, and almost walked past the kitchen door.  She was unable to stop herself from giggling.  "Wake up, Filia, you're starting to look like a fool," she said aloud.  There was another crash of thunder, and she jumped again, feeling even more foolish.  

            She rummaged through the cupboards, looking for the package of cookies that Val had been eating earlier.  After finding them, she nibbled on one as she placed the teapot on the iron stove.  The fire had gone out, and she was beginning to feel the chill that had crept into the room.  She found the pack of matches on the shelves next to the stove and lit one.  However, just before she could throw it into the mess of wood and ash, it went out.

            Curious.

            She glared at the match reproachfully, and lit another one, only to have it do the same thing again.  Getting thoroughly frustrated, she looked around to see where the draft of air could be coming from.  No, the windows were all shut, and even the kitchen door was closed.  Though the air was chilly, there was no possible way for the match to blow out.  But it had.

            Glancing around once more, she deduced that the matches had been faulty ones, and struck another one.  This time, she lowered the match into the stove, praying that she wouldn't get her hand burnt off, and a millisecond before the flame touched the bark of the wood, it went out.  

            She had felt it that time.  An unmistakable puff of air, exactly like someone blowing a candle out; cold and drafty, in her direction.  In her mind's eye she could almost see someone standing behind her, laughing at her, his eyes twinkling maliciously, most likely hoping that he'd scared her good enough to get her to leave.

            Was she truly that dense?  She was fuming at this point, her face red, and her eyes seeming to flare just as red as her temper.  Huffily, she stood up and turned, only to see the wall and no one standing behind her.

            Gathering her courage, and trying to ignore the thought of being thoroughly humiliated if someone found her talking to herself, she said aloud, "I know you're here."  Pause.  Nothing.  "I say, I know you're here.  If you're going to haunt me, have some dignity, will you, and allow me to have a bit of tea first."

            Silence. 

            For a moment, Filia wanted to berate herself for even allowing such foolish notions, but that thought was quickly driven away when a soft, amused voice spoke out of the darkness:

            "Light your match, then.  Go on."

            Filia felt as though the air had been knocked out of her.  Shaking tremendously, she clenched her jaw and said through gritted teeth, "How can I if you keep blowing it out?"

            Again, with a little more force, the voice said, "Light the match!"

            She complied quickly with no further questions.  

            Once the fire was going strong, she turned shakily around, and nearly screamed when she saw the darkened figure silhouetted against the flash of lightning.  She also nearly knocked over her lamp when she backed up against the counter, her eyes wide.  "So y-you're the…ghost…" she said.  

            "You could say that," he replied silkily, and she could see his smile gleaming in the shadows.  Not to mention his eyes…those eyes seemed to contain a light of their own.  The rest of his face was hidden by dark shadows.

            "Well, what are you then if you're not a ghost?" Filia asked, somehow surprised at her boldness.  She wasn't even sure if he was really there; perhaps she was dreaming.  So she pinched herself, and winced.  No, she wasn't dreaming…

            "Ghost is sufficient enough of a word," he said.  "You, on the other hand, seem to have a hard time believing I'm here."

            "Ghosts don't exist," she said, feeling somewhat stupid.

            He laughed then, clear and strong, and she thought she could detect a note of bitterness there.  "I don't exist, do I?  I always thought that seeing was believing…apparently not for you."  

            "I don't know if what I'm seeing isn't an illusion," she replied stiffly.  "I could be having a hallucination, caused by my fear of the storm and what Mr. Calloway told me earlier about there being a ghost in this house."

            "Calloway is a fool," he snarled.  "But at least he believes that I exist.  He has never even seen me, but he heard my voice and that was enough for him."

            His eyes then narrowed dangerously as he stared at her, the whites of his teeth gleaming in the flash of lightning, and for a moment she could almost see the outline of his face, framed by long, dark, stringy hair.  She suppressed a shiver, and defiantly met his gaze.  

"You, my dear, will soon find that my presence will be more than enough for you to believe," he whispered.  And then he was gone, leaving Filia to her confused thoughts and a loudly whistling teapot. 

* * *

Oi! I got another chapter written. Lovely ^_^ I now have mostly the entire plot planned out, so hopefully it will get written faster, eh? Well, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, at least. 


	4. Conditions

Standard disclaimer and notes: Yup, this ficcy belongs to me. I don't own anything else because if I did, I'd be making some money off of this and writing it at 3 am would be even more worth losing a lot of sleep and being dead tired tomorrow. But it's all good. This is the chapter where the haunting or random annoyances begin, and I guess where the ghost and Mrs. Ul Copt finally have a decent chat. I'd like to apologize for OOC-likenesses and remind the reader that this fic has absolutely no boundaries. As the author is definitely unbalanced for coming up with an idea like this, so will the fic itself be slightly unbalanced. I'm thoroughly excited that people like it because I'm starting to really like it, myself. Well what are you waiting for? Go read. 

Restless Spirit  
Chapter 4 - Conditions 

Filia awoke the next morning shivering uncontrollably and feeling downright exhausted from a night of fretful dreams and fleeting images of violet eyes that seemed to glow unnaturally. But then _ violet_ eyes and _ glowing_ eyes both were unnatural. She sighed, and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, placing her feet on the ice-cold floor, and sleepily looked around the dimly-lit room. She frowned. 

The window was hanging wide open. No wonder she was freezing. 

She couldn't remember clearly if she'd closed it or not, but thought that she'd shut it just before going to bed. But then, most of the incidents of last night had seemed like an immensely confusing and surreal dream. She'd left the kitchen in a daze, somehow made her way up the stairs to her bedroom, and had dressed for bed, first shutting the window to stop the torrent of rain getting her floor wet. 

_The kitchen._ She'd dreamed of…something…that itched at the corner of her mind, an occurrence that she was not quite keen on classifying as a memory just yet. Indeed, she was tempted to call it an actual event, but the circumstances had been just too…absurd…to call it anything but a dream. 

To think, a ghost…hiding out in her house, trying to scare her by blowing out her match. Yes, she remembered going downstairs during the storm to fix some tea and cookies, but after that, things just got a little fuzzy. Surreal, like she'd been looking in on herself from outside. At least, that's what it felt like. Surely she hadn't actually seen a frightful, dark figure standing by the window, illuminated briefly by flashes of lighting. Surely she hadn't heard his voice, soft and smooth and slightly high-pitched. No…she'd dreamed it, she was sure. Probably the effects of the atmosphere, and the words of that fool Mr. Calloway. She made a mental note to give that man a good verbal lashing the next time she spoke with him. 

Sighing wearily, she rose to her feet and padded over to the open window, gazing out at the gloomy horizon with its overcast sky that seemed to blend in with the murky blue waters at some point. The air was freezing, and there was a hint of more rain to come, which did little to improve her already-frazzled nerves. Frowning, she shut the window, and rubbed her arms in an attempt to warm them. 

Looking at the clock, she realized that the rest of her household would be up and busy already. She must have been more tired than she realized. She dressed quickly and headed downstairs for breakfast. 

***

She was instantly met with an excited little boy covered in milk, grinning from ear to ear. Dreading the story about why he was covered in milk, and automatically assuming that was why he was grinning; she frowned in reaction and crossed her arms over her chest. Her face took on a very scolding look, which unfortunately didn't diminish the grin on Val's dripping face. 

"Filia-mum! You'll never guess what we just saw!" he exclaimed, bouncing up and down. Filia glanced over at Jacob and George, both of whom were cowering by the counter, looking horrified. She raised an eyebrow at them, and Jacob cleared his throat. 

"Eh…Miss Filia…we, uh…saw somethin' not quite…right…" Jacob stuttered. "Thet be why the young lad is covered wit' milk, ye see…" 

"I'm listening," she said shortly, mentally wincing at the harshness in her tone, and immediately felt guilty for it when Jacob visibly cringed. He looked near the verge of tears as he explained hysterically that, as he put it, "one minute the bowl was sittin' nice and quiet-like on the table an' the next minute it jes' up and flew off, like someone knocked if off, and it weren't young Val 'cause he was sittin' there all nice and quiet-like, too…an' it got all over him." 

Filia tried in vain to stop her imminent headache from coming on, and rubbed her temple. So…not only was she dreaming of ghosts, but her servants were seeing things. She refused to believe this rubbish, therefore she continued glaring at Val in a scolding manner. 

"Thought you'd add to this little ghost problem, would you?" she accused him. "I'll not have it, young man. Tell me the truth; did you knock your bowl off of the table?" 

Val looked as though he would start crying any minute, but he glared defiantly back. "I did not! I'm tellin' you, the bowl flew off the table by itself and got milk an' oatmeal all over me!" 

Filia was not convinced. "Why, then, are you so happy about it?" 

That was a given, it seemed. "Why not? It was _fantastic_!" 

***

The rest of the day did not improve, at all, for anyone except Val, whose day had already gotten off to a _ more_ than amusing head start. Filia wanted nothing more than to call on that despicable Mr. Calloway and rip him into tiny shreds for giving she and her son such ridiculous impressions. But no matter what, or how, she tried to explain away the mysterious occurrences that happened during the day, nor the nagging feeling that someone was watching her every move, she was beginning to lose ground on her convictions.

Indeed, that morning she had not felt the need to, pardon the expression, _ cry over spilled milk_. But as the day went on, she was beginning to hate the ghost with a passion, whether he was real or not. Most of all because Val had not stopped talking about it all day long, but there were a couple of other occasions... 

For instance, she had decided to take a nice, long, relaxing bath in the early afternoon. The bath house was located behind the main house, set there for privacy. The large, luxurious tub was a sparkling black and able to be heated, which she found most enjoyable. She had settled in up to her chin and was nearly asleep before she had that feeling that someone was watching her. She was alarmed enough to open her eyes and look around to see if anyone was peeking through the windows, but there had been no one. However, when she was looking around, she noticed that her bathrobe was missing. 

As were her clothes. 

Now she was wide awake, and furious. Just WHO had the nerve, not to mention the indecency to steal her clothes and robe? Surely not her servants, she thought. Jacob and George were working on fixing the wiring in the house, to make the lights stop flickering. Val was off somewhere…and if he had been the one to take her clothes, he would be in for a beating he would not forget. 

The worst of it was she couldn't stay in the tub forever, and that meant she had to get out. She didn't relish the idea of calling for help. Not. At. All. But, she reminded herself with a note of disdain, _ necessity before pride_. Isn't that what Grandfather always said? She wrinkled her nose. Grandfather said quite a bit, most of it not worth remembering. Not that he always practiced what he preached. Sometimes quite the opposite. 

Clearing her throat and feeling a deeply humiliated flush creep across her cheeks, she hollered, "JACOB!" 

She waited a moment, and sure enough, seconds later she heard the sound of footsteps running towards the bath house. Jacob hastily flung open the door and rushed inside. "Ye called, Miss Filia?! What be…uh…the, uh…?" His question tapered off to an unfinished end as he openly gaped at the scene before him, his face having gone six shades of red in two seconds. 

Filia felt her blush deepen and she scowled perhaps more than she meant to. "Um…Jacob, would you please fetch me a robe…and perhaps my clothes?" 

"A-a-aye.…" he stammered, clearly unable to say anything else. But he didn't move. 

Filia sighed, annoyed, but at that moment she thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head and, for the briefest of moments, saw a pair of deep, violet eyes twinkling, peering at her through the window, just seconds before they disappeared. She screamed, and stood up, pointing. "LOOK!!!" she cried. "Did you see him? He's the one who stole my clothes!" 

There was no answer, and for a moment Filia wondered why Jacob hadn't run after the nasty thief. Upon glancing at him, she noticed that her servant's eyes had gotten wider than she would have thought possible. Then she looked down at herself…and her face, which she didn't think could get any more red, suddenly felt like it would burst. 

"AAAAIIIIIEEEEE!!!!" 

***

Once dressed again and having regained at least some of her composure, Filia decided to unpack and put away some more of her things. At least, she thought, it was less likely to put her in further…precarious positions. So she started with the living room, digging out her boxes with paintings and portraits of her family, as well as some knick-knacks that she'd collected over the years. 

She whistled a light tune as she hung her pictures, smiling at each one and occasionally reminiscing about a certain thought or memory. Her thoughts seemed taken over by more pressing issues at the moment, mostly concerning a ghost that she had yet to decide whether she believed or didn't believe in. Val had insisted that he hadn't taken her clothes, even though that hadn't stopped her from lecturing him simply to vent her frustration. Neither of her servants had taken her clothes, she was sure. Sure enough to not ask them after Jacob had run out of the bathhouse without another word, and she hadn't seen either of them since. She thought it best at the time 

She wasn't so sure that she had dreamed that incident in the kitchen, as much as she'd like to believe that she had. Ghosts just did not exist…or so she'd always thought. She never could believe in anything extraordinary…perhaps because of a rather ordinary and somewhat boring life. 

She had to admit, whether she liked it or not, that she was intrigued by the idea more than she was appalled by it. Indeed, someone who had been around for centuries was for sure to have all kinds of stories…stories of adventures. He would have so much to tell. But apparently, this was a ghost who didn't want to talk. He really just wanted to scare her to get her to leave just like the rest of the previous renters. If she thought about it, he'd really only begun the 'haunting', if she could call it that, by just being annoying. So how hard was he going to try to get her out? What if he went to great extremes to frighten her or Val? Or her two servants? She wasn't sure just how much she could take, depending on the extremes that he took. 

She wasn't about to go down without a fight, either. She defiantly raised a fist into the air in effect, and nearly dropped the vase she had in the other hand when from behind her she heard an amused voice say, "My, my, you certainly are scaring the air in here." 

She flushed deeply again, her instincts telling her she'd been caught…her embarrassment only increasing when she realized whom she'd been caught _by_. She realized, with great disdain, that she'd truly been believing in the ghost's existence ever since seeing him peep in on her through the bath house window.

She heard a deep chuckle and whirled around to see the house's current other resident smiling at her from the ever-present shadows. For some reason, his presence did not frighten her as much as it had the previous night in the kitchen. Perhaps it was because she had only been able to see his eyes, and his smile, illuminated by lightning and the soft glow of her lamp. This time, he was not so well-hidden by the shadows, and she could see his face as well as his clothes. He was dressed entirely in black, which didn't surprise her. Black seemed to be befitting a ghost, in her opinion. 

But his face…that was another story. Hidden by shadows much darker the night before, she had only been able to make out a vague outline of his countenance, framed by dark, stringy hair, and set off by eerie, glowing eyes and a chilling smile. Now that she could see him fully, the whole picture was not much different, but significantly different enough. 

He had pale, smooth skin, with thin lips that were pulled into a slightly amused smile, and she wondered if he was trying to look menacing. Indeed, his eyes were frightful, but she supposed that they weren't as frightening as they could be. They seemed to have lost their glow for the time being, and looked strangely…sad, perhaps…she didn't quite know how to describe it. As if he had lost everything he'd ever known and was left with this empty shell. The eyes were the windows to the soul, after all, she reminded herself. A stringy mess of shoulder-length dark hair that almost looked like a deep violet, as well, framed his thin face, and would have given him a wild, insane look if his face hadn't looked so…tired. Too many years of existing, she supposed, and oddly enough, she felt like she could identify. 

But, her slight twinge of pity for him subsided when he finally spoke again. "So…you believe in me now, do you?" 

"I see no point in continuing to deny it," she replied steadily. "However, if you were going to go about proving yourself, I wish you'd chosen a much more…honorable way…" 

He chuckled. "I never dwelt in honorable things," he replied, and with a sly smirk, added, "I found it to be entertaining, at least." 

She snorted, turning red once again with anger. "The nerve of you! Well, you won't be chasing me out of my house. I shall not be moved around simply because you don't want us here. I'm paying rent for this house and I deserve to be able to keep it." 

"I never said I wanted you to leave," he said cryptically. "However, now that you mention it, yes, I would like it if you left. This is, after all, my house originally. And I don't want to leave." 

"Why don't you just…go to Heaven? Or…Hell…wherever you belong," she said, praying she hadn't angered him by suggesting he go to hell. 

He stared at her for a moment, then laughed. It was the second time she'd heard him laugh, and realized that it was not frightening in the least. She again could detect a note of bitterness behind his amusement, and wondered not for the first time what he could be bitter about. And then she remembered something that Mr. Calloway had told her, and it suddenly made sense to her. 

"Oh, I see" she said, blushing again. "I suppose if you can't go to either place because of…certain things...then it makes sense that you'd want to stay in the place you lived in. I can understand that much, but I just don't understand why you would do such a thing. Tell me…it wasn't because of a _woman_, was it?" She couldn't help but add that last question, out of sheer curiosity. 

He was clearly taken by surprise, because his eyes widened and he didn't reply for a moment. Filia stared at him curiously, wondering why she thought she saw something that might have looked like fear flitter across his face, as fast as the wings of a bird. But that expression was replaced by confusion, and he asked, "What on earth are you talking about?" 

"Well, you committed suicide, didn't you?" 

He laughed again, this time so hard that he doubled over and nearly collapsed on the floor, laughing hysterically. Filia was getting more and more irritated with this ghost. 

"For a ghost, you have an abundant sense of humor," she pointed out. 

"Do forgive me," he replied, trying not to chuckle. "But that was the most incredibly **_ stupid_** thing I've ever heard. No doubt you heard it from dear old Mr. Calloway. The fool has no idea what happened to me, and no one never will. Let it be said that he has his fair share of tall tales, most of the ones about myself included." 

Filia bit her lip. "So…what _ did_ happen to you?" 

He paused, and looked about to reply, but much to her disappointment, he decided against it and opted instead to ask, "What makes you think I would kill myself over a woman? And you call your idea of a ghost absurd." 

Filia puffed out her chest and looked indignant. "Well, one never knows the foolish things men will get themselves into. They get quite fond of themselves and think that they're God's gift to women. Let it be said to you, my good sir, that men can become far more obsessive than women, and if a woman scorned is to be feared, then a man scorned is oft times to be feared worse." 

He gazed at her for a moment, an odd softness in his eyes. "Oft times," he repeated. 

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Filia absently resumed hanging the pictures on her wall. She hung two or three before looking behind her again, and nodding. 

"What is it now?" he asked, still watching her. 

"Just making sure you're still here." A thought struck her then, and she asked, "Now that we've managed to have a civilized conversation, does this mean you'll be letting me stay?" 

"I never said that, either." 

She stuck out her lower lip, pouting. She'd once been told that she looked quite cute when she did that. Unfortunately, he didn't appear to be fazed much, but she wasn't discouraged when he lifted an eyebrow and a small smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. 

"But…you don't understand. I need this house. I can't go back to my crazy old grandfather. He threatened to kill Val, and he's dreadfully boring and greedy. You wouldn't send an innocent young maiden back to such an awful lifestyle, would you?" 

He regarded her thoughtfully for a moment before replying, "Are you absolutely certain that your stay here will be better?" 

"It can't be worse." 

He chuckled. "I wouldn't speak too soon, if I were you." He sighed, and brushed a strand of stringy hair out of his eyes. "But as it's ever so much fun to annoy people, I suppose I'll let you stay." At the look of sheer delight on Filia's face, he lifted a hand to stop her from saying anything and added, "…On one condition." 

Her smile faded. What could he possibly want her to do? She shuddered, blushing slightly and scolded herself for thinking such thoughts.

"What do you want me to do?" she asked in a small voice. He grinned a sadistic little smile. She gulped, a feeling of dread in the pit of her stomach. 

"There's an old artifact that I bought quite a long time ago from a wealthy gentlemen who was willing to sell it to me for a fair price. I was displeased to find that _ wonderful_ Mr. Calloway had it put away in storage when he decided to take over the renting of my house. Now that someone with _ excellent_ taste such as yourself insists on staying here, I want it put back in my front lawn. I'm sure you'll have no arguments." 

Still wearing that alarming, sadistic grin, he disappeared. 

***

"We's had a terrible time gettn' it put there." 

"Terribly huge, innit?" 

"Why's she say she wants it here, anyways?" 

Jacob took another bite out of his sandwich and glanced over at Filia, who was desperately trying not to look at it. In his opinion, it was quite pretty, almost mesmerizing in a way, but for someone as extremely modest as Miss Filia, he knew that it was an embarrassment. He still wasn't sure why she'd made he and George bring it out of storage, but there it was, in all its glory. 

The fountain itself was almost ten feet wide in perimeter, with its large slab marble base, holding about two feet of water. That itself was normal enough. The rest was, to say the least, not Filia's idea of art. Two statues adorned the old fountain, statues of questionable decency. One consisted of a beautiful girl angel, with lovely feathered wings spread wide. In her arms she held a basin of water, which fell in a peaceful waterfall into the base. However, the second statue consisted of a **_ very_** male demon with pointy wings, who clearly liked the female angel, and had wrapped his arms around her in very…gratuitous places. 

Filia, hiding her face from the rest of the world at the moment, declared that the ghost was not only annoying but also as despicable as that Mr. Calloway. She was now sure that she was about to have her wits tested, and every last nerve of her patience tried. And that it was no wonder he was dead, she thought. 

If he were alive, she'd have done her best to assassinate him.

* * *

Well, well, I do believe that is ***the*** fastest story update I've ever done. How many DAYS between chapters? Three? Four? Not even that? Rather than the usual three month update. ^_^;; Thus, I'm not too sure how good this chapter is. Here's hoping I didn't screw it up. *cheers* Thanks so much for the wonderful reviews! 


	5. Decision

Notes and such: Yay, chapter 5. Not the best one, IMO, because I forced myself to write it. Really, I've never wanted to finish a story so bad in my life. I also wanted to get this scene out of my head, it's been bugging me. Here's hoping it turned out ok. ^_^;;

* * *

Thanks so much to all who reviewed Chapter 4. I'm glad you like this story so far, and I'm glad the fountain idea worked. *wicked grin* 

Restless Spirit  
Chapter 5 - Decision 

"Oh _ no!!!_" 

Filia's scream could have reached the nearest village, if that were possible. Val, George, and Jacob immediately came rushing to the window to see Filia in the yard, her shoulders shaking and her chest heaving with barely controlled fury. She stood surveying the scene before her eyes with exasperation. None of them dared to go outside…the results could be disastrous. 

This was by far the worst trick the ghost had pulled thus far, in the three weeks that they'd been there. Turning the pictures in the living room upside down had been harmless, albeit annoying, but not hard to fix. There were other incidents, of course, but this surpassed the rest. 

It was laundry day, which was all well and good. But did he truly have to throw a good deal of her clothes, not to mention all of her underthings out on the front lawn? Really, the only thing she had to fix was her dignity, but even that was already in tatters. 

Some of her underthings were hanging from the limbs on the tree, swaying like some obscene flag in the breeze. Two, to her horror, were hanging from the **_ lovely_** fountain. The rest of her clothes were strewn anywhere and everywhere, cluttering the lawn, and Filia momentarily entertained various morbid and painful ways to punish the most indecent ghost that seemed to delight in torturing her, as well. 

She stared at the carnage for a moment longer, clenching her fists at her side. This was simply too much! She had to do something about that ghost or her sanity was in danger of becoming virtually nonexistent. 

She picked up as many of her things as she could and marched back inside. Val gaped at her, and opened his mouth to ask what happened, but a warning look from Jacob made him reconsider. The two servants wisely opted to say nothing, as well, and quickly ushered the young boy back into the kitchen. 

Filia somehow made it up the stairs without dropping anything, and swung open the door to her bedroom with a loud grunt. 

"Laundry day, I see." 

Filia jumped, startled, and then glared at the grinning apparition. He was sitting in the corner, on the floor, swathed in shadows as usual. She dropped her bundle to properly point a finger at him accusingly. He didn't flinch, nor did he look surprised to see her angry. She had realized soon enough that he was always more than happy to take credit for his actions. 

"YOU!" she yelled, and strode across the room to confront him face-to-face. He stood up casually and motioned with a sweep of his hand for her to stop, which she did, just short of trying to choke him. 

"My, my. Temper, temper," he drawled, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "You really must learn to calm down, my dear. We don't want you dying of overexertion, now do we? Why, then you'd have all eternity to put up with me!" 

Filia's face went red, from fury or embarrassment, she couldn't tell which. She snorted, and replied, "I'm sure you'd enjoy that." 

"On the contrary, it's much more fun to annoy the living," he said lightly. "For instance, one doesn't get that red face with no blood circulation." 

She bristled, and brandished her fist. "Why you – " 

He chuckled, and backed away, idly fiddling with the telescope. He peered out at the sea, and hummed a light tune, leaving her to stare at him with her fist still clenched. As if her anger couldn't get worse, now she felt somehow insulted. The nerve of that ghost! He always did this to her; every time she got angry with him, he would find some way to change the subject. He never acted like he cared if she was angry with him. And really, she wondered, why should he? It wasn't like she could actually hurt him. 

She sighed, dropping her fist down to her side, letting herself relax as much as she could with a strange man standing in her room. Ghost or not, she was unnerved by his presence more than she would let herself admit. Despite the fact that he was a most infuriating ghost, and she shuddered to think what he might have been like alive, at times he could be a most intriguing individual. Such as now, as he stood gazing out of the telescope, smiling that odd smile that sometimes pulled at his lips, she couldn't help but notice that he was somehow…attractive, in a way. 

She'd never seen anything like him. He was very pale, which she supposed came with being dead, but his skin looked smooth instead of waxy. His hair, while stringy and much too long for her tastes, looked very soft to the touch. She often found herself wishing to touch it, just to see for herself if it was as soft as it looked. And his eyes, while frightening at times, were the most peculiar color of violet that she'd ever seen. Really and truly, his eyes were what made him frightening, if he could even be considered frightening, but they were also one of the most appealing things about him, in her opinion. She was beginning to find that she wasn't frightened of him at all. While annoying, he had proved otherwise harmless, thus far. She supposed that she shouldn't let her guard down just yet, and she hadn't completely. Only time would tell. 

He must have noticed her staring at him, for he turned from the telescope to meet her gaze. He smiled as she blushed and looked away quickly. She cleared her throat nervously and picked up her sewing kit. He noticed that her clothes were still lying in a wrinkled heap on the floor, and that the bedroom door was still open, but he decided to say nothing about it as he smirked and sank to the floor once more, leaning up against the wall. 

"Tell me," he said after a few moments of silence. "What made you want to move here in the first place?" 

"Well, as I said before, my grandfather – " 

"No, no," he interrupted. "Why did you want to move **_here_**? To this particular house?" 

She tapped her finger against her chin, gazing thoughtfully out of the window as she tried to remember why, indeed, she had chosen the house. "I think it was part of the description for this house. 'A place of rest for one's soul'. It appealed to me." She sighed, and offered him a particularly icy glare. "Of course I had no way of knowing that I wouldn't get a moment's rest, at all," she added pointedly. 

"Why did it appeal to you?" he asked. 

"Why do you want to know?" 

He shrugged. "I just do. Really, can I be beyond small talk simply because I take great pride in my job as a ghost?" 

She snorted. "You never attempted small talk before…" 

He smirked. "You never gave me a chance to. Always fussing at me one way or another. Such a violent temper…" 

The tone of his voice made her look up from her sewing to stare at him. Such a wistful note in his words…almost nostalgic, in a way, she thought. And the look on his face as he stared at the sky, that lost look in his eyes, like he was remembering something from long ago. She felt a twinge of sorrow, and pity, and wondered if he was remembering someone else…someone that was once close to him. Perhaps a wife… 

That thought struck her almost like a revelation, and she inwardly smiled. All that defensiveness when she'd asked if he'd committed suicide over a woman…she just **_ knew_** that he'd been covering up! If he hadn't committed suicide, then he must have been deeply in love with a woman long ago. Perhaps he'd gotten in trouble over her. Perhaps she left him and he'd been left to grieve for the rest of his lonely days. 

"You know, I've been wondering," she said cautiously, questioning the wisdom in trying to get information out of him that he didn't seem in the least bit eager to tell. "You never talk about your past life. What were you like?" 

He snorted. "I'm not sure you'd want to know…" 

"Well, I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know." 

"Oh? And just why, exactly, do you want to know?" 

"Curiosity, I suppose. I – " 

She was quite rudely interrupted by the sound of a motorcar rumbling up the stone-cluttered road, followed by a loud horn blaring to get her attention. For a split second she wondered who in the world would be calling on her unannounced, but her question was immediately answered when, much to her extreme horror, she heard a loud voice call out: "FILIA!!! OHHHH FILIAAAAAA!!!!" 

Her face went white, and her eyes grew as large as saucers. Horrified, she began shaking, and she jumped to her feet. 

Sitting on the floor, violet eyes followed her every move with amused curiosity as she paced back and forth, clutching her head with both hands. "Why, Filia, you look disturbed. Who could induce such a reaction?" 

She whirled around and glared at him with now-bloodshot eyes. "My…_my grandfather is here!!!_" 

****** 

"Your grandfather?" He was clearly confused. "A little old man?" 

"Old, yes. Little, no. He makes it very clear that he is a big, important person, and never lets me forget it. How did he find out where I lived? Oh, this is terrible!" 

This wasn't terrible to him; he was enjoying this immensely. "So what's the big deal? Just tell him to leave." He reclined on the sofa, propping his feet on the pillows. 

"I can't do that!" she screeched. "He's an upstanding citizen, and he's very wealthy. He has supported me for years by letting me live with him after my parents died; I can't be disrespectful to him, you see? I took a very big risk by leaving, but I just **_ had_** to!" 

Noises interrupted her tirade, the door opening downstairs, and Jacob asking if 'sir would like a cup of tea?' Instantly, she heard the ever-so-rude reply, "I don't care for a cup of tea, boy, now get out of my way! Where is Filia? I demand to see her at once." 

Filia rushed to the bedroom door, shutting it on her messy bedroom and the sniggering ghost inside. She met her grandfather at the top of the stairwell, where she wore the most dignified and welcoming face she could muster. He was not convinced. 

Filia's grandfather, Elton Dequator II, the father of Filia's mother, Elaine, lived very much up to his well-deserved reputation. He was an imposing figure, despite the fact that he was a bent-over, crippled old man with a mostly-bald head surrounded by a meager dusting of white hair. His long beard was equally white, and he leaned quite heavily on an old wooden cane. He looked frail enough that a strong wind could sweep him away easily. 

His eyes, on the other hand, were piercing enough to cut through the most well-hidden secrets. He had the uncanny ability to know everything that she did, not to mention everyone else, and was without a doubt the nosiest man on the face of the planet. He took great pleasure in using his penetrating stare to cut even the toughest man alive down to size, and took even greater pleasure in terrorizing his descendants. Except for Filia, all of them were quite eager to cater to his every desire…and help themselves to his money. 

His countenance hardened when he saw his granddaughter, and he immediately fixed her with one of his most dangerous glares. "Filia," he spoke, his voice scathing like hot water. "What, may I ask, is in your front lawn? Really, it's disgraceful! Such a thing should have been destroyed ages ago. And to think that you'd leave your…_clothes_…outside for all creation to see! I should have known that you'd eventually lose your mind, living out here all alone like this." 

She was about to reply, but he wasn't finished. "And just look at the décor in this place. It's hideous. Most repulsive. And surely your good-for-nothing servants could do something about the dirt on the floors. I would have thought you'd give your old grandfather more of a welcome than this. Well, don't just stand there, girl, what do you have to say for yourself?" 

She opened her mouth yet again, but before she could reply, his gaze had moved from her to the door behind her. His eyes narrowed dangerously, and a vicious sneer formed on his lips. "I **_ knew_** it!" he exclaimed. "I just **_ knew_** you'd come out here to cavort with the enemy! I feel his filthy presence here. I could feel it the moment I walked in. Where is he? Where is he?! I demand you tell me where he is, girl! I'll have it out with him right now!" 

"Grandfather, wait!" she cried, but was unable to stop him from bursting in the bedroom, nearly tripping over her stack of clothes. He sputtered, and Filia was sure that she heard him utter several swear words. She gasped; he'd never talked like that before! "Where is he?" her grandfather demanded again. Filia stared at him, and then looked over at the reclining figure on the sofa, where she was greeted with a smile and a small wave. She turned back to her grandfather, realizing with some measure of relief that he couldn't see the ghost. 

"Where is who, Grandfather?" she asked innocently. 

He pointed his finger at her angrily. "You know very well who I'm talking about. Now out with it! I demand to know why you've been here with him. After all that I went through to raise you right, you've gone and gotten yourself mixed up with the Enemy. I should have known better than to let you out of my house. Blast it all, Filia! It's that boy's fault, that's what! It's the boy! He's the one who started this! I should have never let you take him in; he's one of **_them_**…" 

"Grandfather, I have no idea what you're talking about," she said, honestly. Even if her grandfather could sense the ghost, which she wouldn't be surprised if he could, where on earth did he get that the ghost was an 'enemy' as he put it? "Who are _they_…the ones that you keep talking about?" 

"The evil ones! The **_demons_**!" 

Filia nearly laughed, but was much too fed up with her grandfather to make him even more angry. "Grandfather, I can assure you, there are no demons here. I'm sure you didn't come here just to criticize me and look for 'the enemy', as you so very often do. To what honor do I owe this visit?" 

Her grandfather stopped, and thought for a moment. Then, he smiled a particularly cruel smile as he remembered why, indeed, he'd come in the first place. "Ah, yes. I've come to inform you that the money from your parents' wills is gone. The bank has been involved in embezzlement, forced to shut down, and there is no money left. There is no way to get it back. I'm so sorry." He didn't sound in the least bit apologetic. 

Filia stared at him in disbelief. "No…that can't be! It wasn't all in that bank, was it? I'm sure that there was more…" 

"Oh, I forgot to tell you, didn't I? I had it all put in one bank, to keep everything organized." 

"_Keep everything organized?_ They wanted it in different banks, to keep it from ever being stolen all at once!" 

"Oh, dreadful, isn't it? How was I to know that would happen?" 

Filia was enraged. She was penniless…destitute…all the money her parents had left her in their wills was gone. Images of herself and Val living in the streets, begging for money, filled her mind. She suddenly felt as if her whole body had gone cold, and all her breath was lost. She had to sit down, and her grandfather laid a hand on her shoulder. She wanted to punch him, but hadn't the strength to. 

"What will I do now?" she whispered. 

"There, there," her grandfather said. "I'm sure you'll think of something. Of course…there is one option." 

"What's that?" she asked, thinking she knew exactly what he was going to stay. 

"I would, of course, be willing to let you come back home. I'd give you all the money you need. I'll even let you bring that devil brat and your two worthless servants. There's no way you can live here on nothing, Filia…you can't pay rent any longer. I'm afraid you really have no choice." 

She hesitated, her stomach in knots. Go back? With_** him**_? She would rather die…but then Val would be alone. No one would look after her servants, and they needed her. She loved this house…the salty sea air. The inexplicable feeling that she was home now…and would never be at home anywhere else…but all of it came with a price; something she couldn't deny. She could not afford to pay rent. She had so many people to think of aside from herself; how could she refuse? He would never give her anything if she refused to come with him. He was right…she truly had no choice… 

"Don't do it, Filia." 

A soft voice spoke seemingly out of nowhere, and Filia remembered her other fellow resident. However…he couldn't have said what she thought he said. 

"What was that?" she asked. Her grandfather looked confused. 

The ghost spoke again. "I said don't do it." 

"Does that mean you want me to stay?" she asked, her voice breaking as though she would cry any second. Her grandfather looked very much beside himself. 

"Filia, who are you - ?" 

"I'm saying I'll help you find a way to stay here, that is all," the ghost replied, and Filia didn't hear a word her grandfather was saying as he yelled frantically at her. Indeed, most of the world was shut out right now as the realization dawned on her that **_ he_** _** wanted**_ her to stay… 

"But how will you help me?" she asked. 

"I'll…think of something. Tell that old buzzard to just…get out." 

Filia's smile was as bright as the sun as she turned to face her grandfather. The old man also had never seen such a luminous smile on her face as she said, "I'm sorry, but I've decided to stay. So I must insist that you…**_get out_**." 

Her grandfather was clearly shocked, and his jaw dropped open in disbelief. It was quite comical, and Filia had to stifle a giggle. Apparently, no one had ever talked to him like that before. It felt extremely good to finally be able to put that old codger in his place. She couldn't stop the surge of euphoria that rushed through her, as potent as wine, and couldn't resist giving him a most insolent smirk. 

However, he wasn't finished, either. "You mark my words, Filia. No good can come from this. I'm telling you now…you'll wish you'd never set foot in this house." 

And with a sweep of his long coat, her grandfather turned and marched back downstairs, slamming the door behind him. 

Filia breathed a sigh of relief, and turned to thank her unexpected benefactor. 

He was gone. 

She frowned, and put her hands on her hips. "Hmph. Well…I hope you keep your promise," she muttered. 

* * *

Well, that was a fast update, too! I made myself sit down and write it; quite a rare thing for me. Chapters usually don't turn out all that great when I do that but in all honesty I think this one turned out fine. So, they've got to think of a way to get Filia some money. At the risk of giving some slight spoilers, I had another way planned instead of the movie way, but I think I might do my own version of the movie way. I haven't decided yet. Cheers!


	6. The Promise

A/N: Well, here's Chapter 6. The 'ghost' gives Filia an idea to help with her problem, and here is the result. I should probably mention that mistakes and cheesy lines will probably be abundant as I've written this at 1 am and it probably needs some severe proofreading. Anyway, please review! ^_^

Chapter 6 – The Promise

            What on earth was he doing?  

            He certainly had no clue, himself, and was musing this fact as he reclined on the rooftop during the late evening of that day, watching the sun disappear behind the clouds and then drift even further behind the span of the seemingly endless sea.  He'd always been one to admire nature, even though he was not exactly the type, at least in his opinion.  This didn't stop him from enjoying the laziness of a summer afternoon or the warmth of a fire during a cold winter's night.  Yes, he could enjoy those small, simple pleasures even if he didn't possess what most would consider a real body.  

            He wasn't exactly a ghost, either, though he'd done an excellent job in persuading others as such.  Of course, there were those who weren't as easily persuaded to leave him be, which was a bother, and in some respects it was turning out worse than he'd ever imagined.  Not only had he not managed to get rid of the other inhabitants of his house, but he'd just practically invited her to stay by promising to help her find a way to stay.  What was he thinking?

            He had no idea.

            He had to admit that he was surprised to see her again.  He'd never expected her to one day show up, much less move into the house that he'd made for himself to spend the rest of his days…or years…in.  She'd changed almost drastically, and in ways that he found alarming, and some that he discovered weren't all that surprising, although most of which were still annoying. That long golden mane was no longer around her shoulders but on top of her head, a simple difference that he somehow found that he didn't like.  Since when was he picky about appearances?  He shrugged to himself at that thought.

            And she was decidedly more stuffy and proper than ever…most likely thanks to the equally stuffy and suffocating British upper-class culture.  Her grandfather was definite proof of that.  He hadn't imagined that the man could be more of a tightwad control freak than he was back then…but evidently he was wrong.

            One thing that really surprised him was that Filia hadn't recognized him.  He'd thought that surely she had some memories of back then…maybe even a hint of familiarity…but nothing.  She simply regarded him as the 'ghost' instead of the 'garbage'.  He wasn't sure if he was relieved or somehow annoyed that she didn't know him.  Because she didn't have preconceived notions on how she was supposed to look at him, he had begun to believe that in some small way she accepted him.  Imagine that.  All he had to do was pretend to be dead in order to earn her approval.  Why hadn't he thought of that before?

            But at the same time it annoyed him that she really didn't know who he was or what their strange enigma of a relationship had been at one time.  He could still annoy her and bring her grief, things which he hadn't grown out of, but at the same time it didn't hold the same appeal that it once had.  He was, dare he even think it, **_bored_** with it.  Bored with her, no...never. But it just wasn't the same. 

            That just wasn't right.

            He had at first thought that she'd be trouble, that she would eventually remember him and suddenly go ballistic.  Things that he didn't need; he'd been there for over two hundred years, probably longer, and was in no mind to move simply because Filia drove him out.  But it didn't take long to realize that she was reduced to a mortal's status now, and had none of her powers.  How ironic all of this was…and rather amusing.  It had not taken much for him to allow her to stay.  But it was still curious as to why she'd chosen the house.  So he'd had to ask her as such.  Indeed, her answer had satisfied him…so she hadn't been drawn to the house because of his presence.  She'd been drawn to the house because of a cleverly crafted advertisement.

            That was all he'd needed to know.  As long as she wasn't there to make life miserable for him, and he somehow doubted that if she'd remembered him, she would have begged him to live there.  She still maintained her dignity in that respect.

             And the more he'd thought about it, the more he'd realized how fun it would be to watch over his favorite bundle of nerves, one he'd missed for several long years.  Aside from the constant source of negative energy, she was ever so much fun to torment.  Even if it was growing old…there just wasn't any newness to it like there used to be.  She was still fun to drive insane, but now he had something else to consider…something that he'd finally realized was his ultimate goal in letting Filia stay there now.

            The grandfather.  If there had been anyone he'd enjoyed tormenting more than Filia, it was that old buzzard.  Oh yes.  The grandfather…or Supreme Elder, as they were one and the same…would literally boil over at the thought of Filia living in even the same vicinity as his worst enemy.  Therefore, what better reason did Filia have for staying there?  Not that she knew this, of course…but she didn't have to.  

            It was sweet, sweet revenge.  Perfect.

            All it would take would be a little persuading on his part.  Filia the golden dragon was still in there somewhere, and it would take some coaxing for her to come out, but he had every confidence in himself.  Oh sure, it was risky, but his plan was not only to keep his promise but have Filia, in truth, do it for herself.  She only needed to remember a few things…such as her immaculate skill in pottery.  Somehow, for some unknown reason, pottery and antiques were something that would never die no matter how many years passed.  People were always flocking to home-made items and goods.  Surely Filia still had that knack.  She also had made weapons back then…such as swords, hammers, mallets, not to mention that damnable mace.  He shuddered, and briefly wondered if she still had it…not that he would want her to dig it out.  

            He sighed.  This would probably turn out fairly bad, but he was willing to give it a try.  For old time's sake, perhaps?

            ***

            "Most certainly not!" 

            "And why not?" he argued lazily as he leaned back against the wall, his eyes flashing with amusement.  "Haven't you ever wanted to delve into some sort of hobby other than, say, sewing?"

            "I wouldn't exactly call sewing a hobby," she replied.  "It's a necessity.  Someone has to mend mine and Val's clothes, and I don't imagine that Jacob or George would be able to attempt it without hurting themselves."

            "Well…you have a point there," he said.  "Anyway, what about pottery?  Forget weaponry for now, although I still say you'd make more money that way.  Isn't there a small shop in town that sells pottery and other things that like?  I'm sure you could sell them there."

            "I haven't the slightest idea how to make pottery, and I have no desire in getting my hands in that mucky stuff."

            "Really, and you think that digging around in the dirt is cleaner?"

            "The results are very beautiful, though, wouldn't you agree?  My garden is my pride and joy."

            He grimaced.  "That's all fine and good, but don't you think that people need something to eat out of?  Just think, if Val broke one of your dishes you could just make another one, you wouldn't have to buy more.  Who needs all that expensive china when you can make your own?"

            He could see he was beginning to wear her down, as she began to rub her chin and contemplate what he was suggesting.  He didn't really see why she was protesting against it…after all, he had promised to come up with something.  What did she want him to do, pull money out of thin air?

            "Well…how do I know I'm any good at it?" she asked.  "I don't know anything about that stuff."

            "You won't know unless you try.  Haven't you ever found pottery interesting at all?"

            She thought a moment, and then a small smile pulled at her lips.  "Yes, I suppose I have.  But of course we never had any exposure to the actual craft…my grandfather always ordered our dishes and fine china from foreign countries.  I suppose I'm just not used to this…you know, needing money and all.  I took for granted all the money I had.  How do you know this will help pay the rent?"

            "Oh it will.  You always…I mean, I've always heard that one could make a lot of money selling pottery and weaponry."

            She looked skeptical.  "Oh really?"

            "Of course.  Would I lie to you?"

            She rolled her eyes.  "I'm sure you have before."

            He could only offer her the sweetest smile he had to offer.  That didn't help either.  But she wasn't about to spend the rest of her life arguing with a ghost.  "Fine.  I'll take your word for it, since you **did** offer to help me stay here.  I'm counting on you."

            "Don't worry.  I'm sure you're a natural."

            ***

            Natural disaster was a more correct term for it, actually.  That next day, Filia had George and Jacob run into town to collect the supplies.  They returned that evening, and set up the table in the small empty room downstairs that she'd been considering using for storage.  It was cold and drafty in there, but it was also perfect for her to get away and concentrate because it was at the far end of the house, away from Val's room and the kitchen.  They moved her supplies in there; paintbrushes, paint, clay, the large basin of water, and towels.  

            The next morning, Filia gave George and Jacob a few extra dollars to take Val to town and keep him occupied the rest of the day.  She then changed into an old shirt and a pair of men's pants (the other reason she'd wanted no one else there...it was very embarrassing).  With a stern look set upon her face, she surveyed the small, dusty room, and told herself that it was now or never.

            Two hours later, there was wet, muddy clay everywhere.  All over the table, all over the floor, and all over herself.  It was on her clothes, and she mentally kicked herself many times for not even thinking to wear an apron.  It was in her hair, on her face, underneath her fingernails, and she was hot and sweaty, her face flushed with frustration.  All that she had managed to make thus far was a nice, lumpy blob in the middle of the table.

            With a cry of fury, she slammed her hand down on the table, managing to spray some more wet clay onto her face.  She felt tears well up in her eyes and cursed that blasted ghost.

            "Having some problems are we?" 

            She did not even look up. His voice did nothing but grate on her nerves at that point.  "What do you want?  What are you doing to me?  Is this some sort of ploy to make me leave…get my hopes up and lead me along, making a fool out of me?"

            "My dear, you wound me so," he mock-whined.  "Such distrust.  No…I am not making you leave.  You know how to make pottery…you just aren't trying hard enough."  
  


            "I don't know how to make this mud turn into something else!" she yelled, and in her anger she flung a piece at him, which he easily dodged. It splattered on the wall behind him and slid to the floor.  "I don't know where you get that I have the knowledge for this!  You don't even know me!"

            He frowned, and gave her a chilling look.  "Perhaps you're right.  No…you **are** right.  I merely thought it would be a good idea for you.  You see…I once knew a woman who gave up everything that she had believed was right for so long, and was left with nothing.  She took up pottery, too…having no experience in it.  She loved working with her hands, and she had the most artistic taste.  She ran her own business, you know.  I don't believe that she was successful just because she had instant talent.  She did it because she had the resolve to do it.  I thought perhaps you were the same."

            And with that, he disappeared.

            Filia felt the threatening tears finally fall over, and she buried her face in her hands.  Why did he have to be so cruel?  She took up his silly idea didn't she?  Who in their right mind would buy that sad mess on the table?  He was a fool if he thought that she was good at this. He didn't know anything.  

She sniffed. All her life she'd been made to believe she wasn't worth anything because she was a woman and because she had never been like the rest of her family.  Poor little Filia, her head always in the clouds, always coming up with the strangest ideas.  Well, this was the strangest one yet and she wasn't even the one who came up with it!

            She bit her lip.  But she'd always been that way…even though she'd eventually learned to hide it as much as she could.  She'd always been different.  Never like the others.  She'd never understood why, but she knew it was why her grandfather had always seemed to watch her the closest…and despise her the most.  For one, she'd always challenged his ideals with her own.  He had wanted her to be a deeply religious person like himself, a devout Catholic.  And while she had enjoyed church to a certain extent, and most certainly prayed and believed in a Higher Power, there were many things that her grandfather did and said that went against what the church taught.  Things that eventually drove her away from the church if only to be away from her grandfather's watchful eyes.  It had not pleased him at all to see her drift away.  Once, in a fit of rage, he had all but accused her of fornication and various other sins…none of which had been true.  It was then that she'd realized just how off he really was.  He looked for bad things in everything.  She was tired of it…and she began to try to look for the good in everything.  Again, something that went against everything he had always taught her.  

            She rubbed her eyes, her thoughts coming back to the present.  So what did making pottery have to do with her grandfather?  It didn't make any sense to her…but perhaps it did, in a way, the more she thought about it.  She'd never done anything for herself.  She'd always had things done for her; her family had been extremely wealthy, after all.  Everything had always come easy for her, and yet nothing she ever had was really hers. She would forever live under her grandfather's shadow...just like her parents. And wasn't this what she wanted?  To not have to be completely in debt to her grandfather?  If she could do this…if she could prove that she could do it on her own, and that she had talents that he didn't possess, wouldn't that show him that he couldn't control her anymore?  

            The thought of that was more thrilling than ever.

            With new resolve, she pulled out a new block of clay and began working.

            ***

            He sat in the shadows of that dark, dusty room all day, watching her as she worked long and hard, skipping lunch and even dinner, barely even noticing when George, Jacob, and Val returned.  Her hair had come loose from her bun and hung around her face, which was flushed and sweaty, her brows furrowed in concentration.  He was becoming very proud of her; it had taken several tries, but now a small jar was taking form and looking quite good.  

            He had meant to be hard on her, and did not regret it.  She would, he hoped, thank him later for pushing her.  Besides, she needed to feel as though she was making it on her own.  She resented her grandfather enough to force herself to do what she could to keep from crawling back to him, begging for money.  He knew her well enough to know that she would never do that.  And perhaps he could have come up with something else to help her, but in his opinion, this was just the thing that she needed to feel that sense of independence.  If he recalled correctly, it was just the thing that had helped the old Filia in her quest for independence.  Opening that store had been her ticket to freedom from a society that had, in her eyes, sunk almost as low as the 'enemy'.

            But that was in the past, and to a very large extent, he was glad she did not remember it.

            Finally the jar was complete, and she sat back, feeling completely drained and tired, but full of pride.  It was still a bit sloppy, but not bad compared to her first try.  And tomorrow was another day; she had considerably more confidence in herself at that point.  Sighing, she swiped a stray hair out of her eyes, and out of the corner of her eye, noticed that she was not alone.  She frowned.

            "Have you been watching me the entire time?" she asked.

            He was silent a moment before answering, "Most of the time.  I daresay this one looks a sight better than the first.  See, didn't I tell you?"

            "Whatever," she said, rolling her eyes.  "I certainly didn't do it for you.  I did it because I'll die before going back to my grandfather.  And he doesn't have any artistic talent at all."

            "I'm sure he never did."

            She giggled.  "If this works, I'm going to write him a letter.  I would pay to see the look on his face when he reads it!"

            "It will work.  My ideas always work."

            "Hmph," Filia scoffed, and then began eyeing the dried clay on her fingers.  "Goodness…it's going to take me forever to get this cleaned off.  I need a bath."  She stood to her feet, yawning and groaning when her back muscles complained from being in one position for so long.  There was an awkward silence as she suddenly felt as though she should say something to him…he had, in a big way, helped her at least gain some measure of confidence back.

            "I…I want to say…I do appreciate your help," she said quietly, suddenly finding the floor to be quite interesting.  

            "Think nothing of it," he said, looking away as well.  "I have my reasons."

            She bit her lip.  "Either way…thank you."

            His eyes met hers then, conveying much more than she could or cared to understand in those mysterious amber orbs.  "You're welcome," he whispered.

            The atmosphere was becoming much too uncomfortable for her at that point…uncomfortable in that she could think of nothing more than those eyes.  She had to get away from them as fast as possible, and so she quickly left the room, running as fast as she could to her room.  Slamming the door behind her, she brought a hand to her heart in a vain attempt to slow it down.  

            What on earth was wrong with her?  Maybe it was the effects of the long day, and the fact that she was feeling exhausted, and perhaps a bit giddy because of her accomplishment that was causing her to react in such a way.  She honestly didn't know…but her conscience was beginning to tell her something else was the cause of it.  Something she didn't want to think about.  But all she could think about was that pair of eyes that seemed to follow her everywhere.  She even saw them in her dreams, in the shadows, where they always were.  Never in the light…where she was.  And that's the way it had to be.  Light just didn't mix with darkness.  Ever.  Right?

            She sighed, and picked up her robe where it lay on the back of her chair.  She didn't need to think of this right now.  It was probably from the stress of the day…she just needed a relaxing bath, and some sleep.  She could worry about things tomorrow.

***

Oooooh looks like things are heating up! Stay tuned for the next chapter soon!


	7. Intermission

A/N: Well, this is a really, really short chapter, kind of an intermission to the rest of the story and kind of not. Also written really, really fast, in like, 20 minutes. I don't think it's all that bad, really, but it probably could use some proofreading first. And since there is no proofreader available at this time, well such is my luck. No big deal I suppose. There's one particular scene from the movie that I did use and sort of twist to my liking in this chapter, which I think works pretty well. It might not, I dunno. Anyway, forgive any mistakes and its relative shortness. Longer chapter next time I promise. Happy Halloween!

**Chapter 7 – Intermission**

Filia leaned back against the wall, sipping a hot cup of tea and surveying the small room. This had become sort of a sanctuary for her. Not only a place where she worked on finding a way to make some money, but a place where she could also lose herself in her work. While her hands crafted pots, jars, and vases, all of which were lined up against the opposite wall, her mind drifted off into other things. It was almost like meditation, in a way. When she was finished, she felt refreshed, renewed, and ready to start on another one.

Indeed, she'd found her calling, with a little help, of course. It was funny, somehow…her mindset of her resident ghost had changed considerably. Perhaps it was because he, himself, seemed to have changed considerably. Why was that, she wondered. It was quite strange, and something she couldn't quite figure out. She wondered if it was because of the woman he once knew long ago…the one he had told her about, the one who had owned a pottery shop. Filia felt an inexplicable kinship with her; someone who had broken free of a tyrannical authority figure and lived her own life. 

Her curiosity was sparked, ever since the ghost had told her about this woman. Now several unanswered questions filled Filia's head. What was this woman like? Was she romantically involved with the ghost? What were her dreams, her fears, and her accomplishments? Did she have children? What became of her in the end?  
  
Filia, for some odd reason unknown even to her, wanted desperately to know the answers to these questions. But she could not bring herself to ask him. She was afraid of angering him, for she had a feeling that it was a touchy subject with him. It was slightly obvious, in his tone of voice whenever he briefly would mention her that their relationship had been an intense, complex one that possibly ended tragically. 

It was so romantic! And Filia was a hopeless romantic at heart.

But still she couldn't ask him. She had succeeded in not angering him thus far; in fact, it was quite the reverse. He delighted in making her so furious that she could hardly see straight. And all she could do was stand there and fume; after all, how easy was it to harm a ghost? Come to think of it, she didn't recall even trying. She'd assumed that anything she threw at him would merely go straight through and smash into the wall.

No matter; she would find revenge one day. Or forget about it and go on, as she tried to do so often. 

Still, there were those questions that she wanted to ask him, and a small part of her was afraid that any personal questions she might ask might bring back unwanted bad memories for him. As annoying as he was, she hated to see anything suffering. So what was she to do, then? How was she going to bring up the subject without causing an argument or something to that extent?

Filia sighed, and finished the last of her tea. She supposed that she ought not to worry about it too much…after all, there were other things she should be thinking about first. It wouldn't be long before the bill collectors would be at her doorstep again, demanding for her to get out. She didn't have much longer until then, and she had to find someone to sell her pottery. She was almost finished with her original quota of 100, having spent hours upon hours painting them to near perfection. They were really quite good works; she was proud of herself.

Someone would surely sell them for her. If worse came to worse, she was considering opening her own store. In truth, she was considering opening her own store, regardless. She didn't really know why, but the idea was very appealing to her. And what a grand sight that would be when dear old grandfather came back and she was now the owner of her own shop, earning her own money, and certainly not at other people's expense! Besides, she was a shrewd businesswoman by nature. Her father had told her as such many times. 

A high-pitched beeping noise jolted Filia out of her thoughts, and she immediately rolled her eyes as a dreadful cold feeling swept over her. She knew exactly who that was, and my, oh my, what a surprise. Dear, sweet Mr. Calloway was late this week; normally he arrived right on the dot at three, to 'warn' her about the bill collectors and make general 'accidental' groping motions towards her chest. 

Well, her mother hadn't given her that lovely, frilly pink parasol just for looks.

Pasting a smile onto her face, Filia made her way into the front hall, picking up her parasol out of the newly crafted blue vase by the doorway. Silently cursing him, she opened the door and in a voice dripping with sarcastic sweetness, she gushed, "Why, Mr. Calloway, what a marvelous surprise. What brings you here on such a lovely day?"

Mr. Calloway smiled a toothy grin and planted a big, wet kiss on her hand. "Ms. Ul Copt, you are as radiant as ever."

Filia wiped her hand on her skirt and replied, "But of course."

He cleared his throat, looking nervously around. "I, ah, came to give you yet another warning, Ms. Ul Copt. I shan't be able to keep the bill collectors at bay much longer. You are certain that you have a way to pay them?"

"I certainly do."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing her. He normally didn't. "You have yet to tell me what this method of payment is, madam. As your realtor, it would be wise for you to tell me of these things…"

"As my realtor, you do quite well in making my business your business," she replied pointedly, and planted the tip of her parasol directly at her feet. He swallowed hard, eyeing it with a wary look.

"Shall we go for a walk?" she asked, gesturing towards the garden.

"Ah, of course. But…would you need that? It doesn't look like rain, today…"

"One never knows!" she said cheerfully, and continued to swing it as she walked towards the garden, leaving him behind to stare after it like a man being lead to the slaughter. Finally he gathered his resolve and joined her.

"You've done splendid work to this house," he said. "The garden is lovely."

"I am not the one responsible for it," she said. "My two servants are. They seem to like working with flowers more than I do, because they know I don't have time for it otherwise."

Mr. Calloway scoffed. "Those two buffoons? Planting flowers? Come now, Ms. Ul Copt, what do you take me for? This could only be the work of a woman."

Filia made what could only be described as a growling noise and rounded on him, sticking the parasol directly into his face. "I'll thank you not to refer to my servants as buffoons. They are hardworking, reliable, and honest. They're gentlemen, unlike you! Now if that's all you're going to do is criticize me and my house, then you can leave!"

He raised his hands in surrender. "Now, now, calm down, I meant no ill will. My dear, you must learn to relax. I can tell that these days have been stressful for you. Perhaps you have been up here alone too long."

"I have not been alone!"

"Yes, yes, you have your son and servants, I understand. But I shudder to think of what might happen should an emergency occur. Without the protection of a man…the _right_ man…has to offer, I fear for your safety…"

Filia stared, her eyes wide, with a startled look on her face. "Mr. Calloway…" she said breathlessly.

He grinned, looking extremely hopeful. "Yes?"

She pointed behind him. "There goes your car…over the cliff…"

"WHAT?!" Horrified, he turned to see it just as the car toppled off the cliff and into the sea below. And standing just at the edge was a familiar figure, smiling a most malicious smile, and waving cheerfully. 

With a most undignified and girly scream, Mr. Calloway turned tail and ran as fast as he could down the hill, never once slowing down. Filia could not help but chuckle, and feel somewhat grateful. Still, pushing Mr. Calloway's car over the cliff was not a very nice thing to do. A bit of scolding was in order.

So she marched straight over to the ghost, giving him her most reprimanding glare. He shrugged and looked down below at the smashed and floating remains of the car. "What can I say? He must have left it in gear."

"I'm sure he didn't," she replied. "While I must thank you for getting rid of him, I also must thank you very much for turning him on our bad side. Now he'll not only send the bill collectors, but a lawyer with them. They'll most likely come tomorrow to arrest me for destruction of property."

"No they won't. He's too scared of me."

"He doesn't know you very well, does he?"

"I AM scary. Frightening. Remember the first night you were here? You were scared to death, admit it."

She raised her chin in defiance. "I was not. I was simply taken by surprise."

He rolled his eyes. "If you insist." He paused a moment, then asked, "Say, was he really proposing to you?"

She stared at him, her eyebrow raised in amusement. "And why would you like to know?"

He shrugged again. "It doesn't matter to me…I would hope you wouldn't sign him on."

Her eye twitched, and her face was an instant five shades of red. "And what makes you think that I would? He's the lowest of the low…a man like him, for me? Never! You must think little of me to ever think that I would marry a spineless little twit like him."

An impish smile crossed his lips. "Well it's a good thing, too…I'd feel sorry for him."

_**"WHY YOU!!" **_

Without pause, the cute frilly parasol connected with the side of his face with a resounding **CRACK**. She stood fuming, breathing hard and her eyes seemed to glow unnaturally. He, on the other hand, was stunned, and stared at her in surprise.

"That…hurt," was all he could say, rubbing his cheek.

She caught her breath, trying to calm herself down. "GOOD!" she yelled, and stomped off towards the house.

He watched her go, still rubbing the red mark on the side of his face. He was actually more surprised than hurt, but it still stung. "Hmm…looks like your aim has improved considerably."

* * *

That's all, folks! Reviews, please? 


	8. New Discoveries

A/N: This is one of those 'what if' chapters...like, 'what will they do to me if I write this?' I am following the movie *really* loosely here, people, but I'm still following it. I had a variety of ideas about which route to take this story, starting with this chapter. I debated going the really angsty route, or the completely silly route...and eventually I decided on the silly/angsty route with a smidgen of both. Also, despite what you may derive from this chapter, this is still a **100%** Xelloss/Filia story. Oh, and I love reincarnation fics, in case you couldn't tell. Bring on the reviews! Thanks for all the lovely comments thus far! You all rock the house.

Restless Spirit Chapter 8 - New Discoveries 

_One week later: _

"I'm not sure that I can do this…" Filia moaned. "I feel that I'm going to faint right here."

Jacob looked up and gave her a sympathetic look as he patted her arm. "Aw, don' worry Miss Filia, I'm sure ye'll do jes fine."

Filia smiled at his attempt to alleviate her fears, but in truth she was petrified beyond repair. She was in London, having taken a train that morning with boxes of jars and vases that were now loaded on a cart. Her two servants and Val had come with her, Val looking impatient and anxious to be elsewhere. Now she was standing across the street from a small store that read 'Gordon's Fine Weaponry and Antiquities'. By all means, she should be marching inside and at least asking if they would sell her pottery, but she could not bring herself to move one foot.

"Come on, Mum," Val whined. "The train will leave without us at this rate."

"You hush up now," she scolded, frowning at him. "Just…give me a moment."

Val rolled his eyes and glared reproachfully at the boxes with all of his mother's pottery. He, George, and Jacob had had to carry them from home, load them on the train, and then locate a small cart for them to pull around while in London. He hoped that she wasn't going to make them carry all those boxes all the way home. He would refuse, even though it wouldn't do any good. 

Filia took a deep breath and tried to gather her thoughts. She wondered if that infernal ghost was around somewhere, waiting to torture her. Not that she really wanted to see him. She was still furious over the incident with Mr. Calloway, even though it had not turned out as bad as she'd expected. Mr. Calloway had not sent the lawyer with the bill collectors, but he had sent another eviction notice. She could ignore the eviction notice easier than a lawyer. But even still, it could have been worse. She was not going to let the ghost forget that.

Nor was she going to forget the new questions that had come to her mind after that incident. Such as whether or not her parasol should have been able to connect with obviously solid skin, much less leave a rather nasty red mark in its wake. It was a question that brought many other disturbing questions with it, and she would rather not think about them. Even if she had little choice. 

She shook her head to clear her mind, and took another deep breath. "All right," she announced. "I'm going inside. Watch the merchandise, make sure no one steals them."

All three nodded mutely. She smiled. "Well…here I go." She remained where she stood. "I'm going, really I am." Not a movement. "Can't we go home?"

"I'm for that," Val said. "But I'm leaving these here."

She glared at him. "You are not!"

"Then just go inside!" he whined. "Please?"

"Oh fine!" she replied. "Wait here." Adjusting the parcel under her arm, she walked as slowly as possible across the street. Unfortunately for her, the street was not very wide, and within a minute she was standing at the door. It was a very large door, she thought. It looked much too heavy for her to push in. Perhaps she should try another store…

At that moment, an elderly gentleman brushed past her. "Excuse me, ma'am," he said politely, and pushed open the door with the greatest of ease. She sighed, and followed him in.

The store was dark and quiet, and somewhat cluttered, she noticed, wrinkling her nose in disdain. She saw several pieces of pottery lying around, though they looked old and worn…which would be why it was an antiquities store. This realization did not get her hopes up. She also saw many swords, knives, and rifles stacked up against or hanging on the walls. She swallowed nervously.

"Can I help you?" a soft male voice called out to her. She turned to find the clerk watching her. He was a somewhat short man, with light wavy brown hair and spectacles. He looked intelligent, a little impatient, and more than a little imposing.

"Oh, yes," she said, feeling silly. "I have just started this pottery business, you see, and I was hoping that you could sell some of my work for me."

"No."

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"I don't sell pottery," he replied. "Didn't you see the sign?"

"Yes, and it says 'antiquities'. I see several pieces of pottery in your store."

"Indeed. And they are antiques, just as the sign implies."

She felt her heart sink, and her face turn bright red. "Please, won't you look at it? Perhaps it could pass for an antique…one that's been well taken care of?"

He shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't sell it. Not that kind of material. My business is weapons and antiques. Make me a sword or a rifle and we're in business."

She glared at him, and for a moment considered very seriously throwing her jar at him. "You would not want me to bring a sword or a rifle in here," she growled. "This store might be lacking a clerk. Good day!"

With that, she stormed out…and ran right into a man walking in. She cried out, lost her balance, and dropped her jar. A pair of strong hands kept both it and herself from falling to the ground, catching both with almost lightning reflexes. Shaking from embarrassment, and disheveled from her nerves, she brushed herself off and gained enough composure to look up at the nice gentleman who was so kind to help her after she'd run into him. In the next second, she forgot how to speak.

Standing before her with the most charming smile she'd ever seen was a man that was almost as beautiful as herself…in a more masculine way, of course. He resembled a Greek god, with chiseled features and golden, almost white hair. His deep blue eyes glittered, and his smile never wavered as he handed her jar back to her. 

"That's a nice jar," he said. "Looks expensive."

It took her a moment to realize that she was supposed to answer him. "Thank you," she said. "I made it."

"Did you, now? It's very good work. You should sell it."

She sighed. "I know..."

He blinked, then asked, "Say, what's the matter? You stormed out of there in a terrible hurry."

She blushed, and shook her head. "Oh, it's that man in there. He wouldn't sell my pottery because it's not 'antique'."

"Oh? That's too bad," he said genuinely. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully for a moment, then his eyes lit up. "Say, I'm the owner of this store. What if I sell it for you?"

Filia stared at him, confused. "_You're_ the owner of this store?"

He nodded.

"But, that man in there said –"

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about him. He has his bad days. Just like everyone, right?"

"Right." She chewed her bottom lip hesitantly. "Are you really going to sell my pottery for me?"

"Of course! I'm always here to help nice ladies in distress."

Filia willed herself to think of the task at hand. "I truly appreciate it," she said, and pointed to the cart where Val, Jacob, and George were waiting. "There is the rest of my pottery. Shall I have them bring all of it?"

"Sure thing," he replied. "Just bring it in and we'll see that at least some of them get sold."

Extreme relief washed over her in a torrent, and in turn she felt tears sting her eyes. "I don't know how to thank you, Mr…?

"Oh, just call me Gordy. Everyone does."

Filia nodded, then motioned for her servants and Val to bring her packages. It took them several minutes to unload them all and bring them inside, while Filia worked out the prices for each of her items. In the meantime, the store clerk stood back and watched with an annoyed expression on his face. Filia merely smiled at him sweetly.

"There you are, Miss," Gordy announced as soon as the last piece of pottery was lined up against the wall. "I'll be sure and sell these for you this week. I'll wire you this Friday to let you know if you need to bring more."

Filia was beyond ecstatic. "Thank you ever so much," she gushed, and shook his hand. She couldn't help but notice how strong he was…and once again had to force herself to think professionally. "It was a pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine," he replied, and bowed courteously. "Have a safe trip home."

"Thank you."

She didn't stop smiling all the way to the train, and there was a far-away dreamy look in her eyes, causing George and Jacob to stare at her, confused. They weren't quite sure what to think of it. She was acting strangely. Val paid her no attention; she was his mother. She always acted strangely.

After settling into their cabin on the train, the boys left to go exploring, leaving Filia by herself. She yawned and grimaced as she rubbed the backs of her legs. She was definitely feeling the effects of her long day, but she was pleased, nonetheless. It was a very satisfying day. And she had been pleasantly surprised by the hospitality of that wonderful store owner. 

Gordy…the name kept rolling around in her mind, leaving her to wonder why in the world she found him so attractive. After all, she wasn't interested in a relationship, was she? He also wasn't her type. Not in the least. Besides, his hair was as long and blonde as her own. They'd look like twins…

"Practically drooling all over yourself, Filia, dear," an obnoxious voice whispered in her ear. She jumped and nearly screamed before she realized who it was. She glared at that impish, smiling face and turned away.

"I am not drooling, thank you very much," she replied shortly. "And I don't want to see you."

He pouted, sticking out his lower lip. "Why not?"

"Because you do nothing but cause me grief whenever you're around!" she cried. "For once can't you act civilized? Like a gentleman?"

"Where's the fun in that? Come, Filia, do you honestly think that you would be interested in a man who is sickeningly polite? 'Yes, sir.' 'No, ma'am.' 'Here, let me help you with your packages.' Please. You would get bored with that in a heartbeat."

"And what makes you think I'm interested in a man who tries to trip me every time I go down the stairs? Who throws my clothes outside for the entire world to see…including my underclothes? Who insists on torturing me in various mental ways that defy any physical harm you could do?"

He laughed. "At least there's never a dull moment."

She snorted, but couldn't think of anything to reply to that. Instead, she continued gazing out the window at the passing buildings that seemed to blur by. In a way, she felt that her life was going as fast as the train…passing everything by, and she was missing so much. She just wanted to slow down. She wanted to enjoy herself…get out, meet people. She wanted someone to be with her when she grew old. She didn't want to die alone…

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, suddenly. She turned to find him staring at her, his eyes almost soft. 

"I'm thinking that I could use some more dull moments," she replied.

He frowned. "Oh? What do you mean by that?"

She shrugged. "I don't really know." She hesitated. "I just feel like my life is going too fast. I feel like I've been working my life away lately, and everything else is just standing still."

"Ah, I see…" he said, and fell silent. 

She sighed after a few moments, then decided to ask the question that had been bothering her. "By the way…_**Mr. Ghost**_…I wasn't aware that ghosts had solid skin.. Do you want to explain why I could hit you last week, or am I just going crazy?"

He coughed. "I don't think I can explain that. Besides, that red mark faded more quickly than normal. You just didn't stay around long enough to see it."

"Really?" She did not look convinced.

"Yes, really. I'm telling the truth!"

"I don't believe you."

He sighed. "Look, I know what you're probably thinking. That you've been living all this time with someone who claims to be dead but isn't really. Well, if that is what you're thinking then…you're right."

"WHAT??!!!"

Sensing an impending disaster, he waved his hands frantically and stood to his feet. "No no no, listen to me before going off on a rampage, my dear. I'm not dead…but I'm not alive, either. It's rather difficult to explain, which is why I preferred pretending to be dead. I have all the supernatural abilities of a ghost, plus I don't exactly have functioning lungs and a heartbeat, but I still have the body of a person. I heal fast, I don't get sick, and I don't eat, drink, or sleep. I…I used to be something else."

Filia stared at him. "Something else?"

"Like I said, it's hard to explain."

"We have plenty of time before we reach home."

He shook his head. "It's a long and complicated story. One that you don't want to hear."

"Oh but I do. I do not appreciate being deceived."

"I deceived everyone," he pointed out. "It was easier that way."

She sighed and rubbed her temple wearily. "I am just so confused now. It was hard enough to believe in the existence of ghosts, and now you're telling me that someone can be dead _and_ alive at the same time. What are you going to tell me next, that you're a vampire?"

"Not a vampire," he said. "I was never human."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Of **_course_**, there had to be a catch to it. Do you know what? You're right, I don't want to hear it. I want to take a nap before we get home." With that, she leaned her head against the wall and tried to make herself as comfortable as possible despite the loud, rickety shaking of the train. Even so, she was asleep in minutes, snoring softly.

He stayed in the cabin and watched her sleep, wishing he could also close his eyes and be at peace with the world for even a few moments. But it was impossible. He could never be at peace, especially while she was there. Even if he could sleep, he would still see her in his dreams. 

He had literally condemned himself to a worse torment than Hell could possibly be. And he was certain that the worst was yet to come.

* * *

Looks like Xelly's going to have some competition! Things are going to get interesting so stay tuned! 


	9. Waiting

A/N: Ah, another 'filler' chapter. I decided on a bit of character development before moving the story onto a bigger plot point. I really like this chapter for some reason. Well, for one, you get a peek inside Xel's past...just a peek, mind you! You also start to get a slight idea of what happened between Xel and Filia before, but I'm not letting the cat out of the bag yet! Just wait...be patient with me! ^_^ At any rate, sorry for the sloooowwww updates, and enjoy the chapter. Cheers! 

**Chapter 9 – Waiting**

The minutes seemed to crawl by for Filia, whose minutes stretched into hours, hours into days, and the days eventually into one week after her visit to London and Mr. Gordon's antique shop. She felt as though she would go mad if she had to wait one more second to hear the news of how well her pottery sold…but she ended up waiting a lot of seconds, and still she maintained at least most of her sanity. The rest of the household, however, could not say the same about their own. 

Val had quickly learned to stay out of her way, for once deciding to help Jacob and George with their many, many chores and odd jobs around the house, most of which they made up as they went along simply to keep themselves busy. All three of them made good use of going around outside of the house watering all of Filia's numerous plants and flowers, even though they hardly needed watered with all of the rain they had been having recently. 

The resident ghost, now referred to as 'The Fraud', after spilling his little secret, had not said much at all. In fact he had been rather quiet, and unobtrusive, as well, preferring to try blending in with the wall paint instead of trying to aggravate her even more, which would have likely been impossible at that point. He had tried talking to Filia once, and had proceeded to have his head verbally ripped from his shoulders. After that, he decided that it wasn't as fun picking on Filia when she was a complete and total nervous wreck, even if she was magnificently beautiful when she was angry. Still, he was willing to try again. 

Filia had paced a small rift into her bedroom floor, pausing once in a while by the window to look out at the sea, where she would become calm for a few moments, and then resume pacing. She was, at the moment, standing by the window, holding the newest demand for rent payment in her hands. Basically her fate rested in how well her pottery sold, and she had never felt so nervous in her life; her stomach was doing flips, and her head felt like it would explode. She knew that she was driving her household mad, but she honestly felt that there was nothing she could do. Never before had she been so on edge…so ready to burst. 

She didn't think she, or her family, could take much more of this. 

"It's a lovely day, wouldn't you agree?" a familiar voice spoke from the corner of the room. 

Filia gritted her teeth. "What do you want?" 

"Tsk, tsk, Filia, I only asked a simple, harmless question. You know, you're going a little overboard, here. It will work out. Why lose your health by worrying so much?" 

"Since when do you care about my health?" she asked, a little surprised by this behavior of his. 

He shrugged, seeming to be indifferent. "It's not so much that I care about your health," he said. "But we can't have you dying, now can we? Then **I** would be stuck with you for eternity, and I'm not so sure I could handle that. Too much excitement." 

She frowned. "I'm truly not in the mood for your joking. If you have no words of encouragement, then just let me be alone." 

He frowned. "I was encouraging you…or so I thought." 

"Hah! Encouraging me to do what? Attack you? Slap you again?" 

He grinned. "Now that sounds like an idea." 

She gritted her teeth again and gave him the Look of Death. "If I wasn't so sure that you'd probably enjoy it, I would thoroughly love to." 

"Oh come now, Filia…so what if I would enjoy it? It would make you feel better, wouldn't it?" 

"That's not the point!" 

"Of course it is. You're happiest when you're angry and throwing fits, and you know it." 

"I am not!" 

"Are too." 

"I AM NOT!!!" At this point Filia's eyes were taking on all the characteristics of a blazing fire. 

"Oh? Would you rather be worrying about your pottery, then?" 

Filia stopped, her reply cut short. She had forgotten about it completely, in just those few short seconds. She felt her cheeks burn, and turned away. "Oh, for heaven's sake," she sighed. 

He laughed. "See? I can make you forget anything." 

"Oh, bother," she sighed. "Why don't you make me forget that you even exist?" 

If she didn't know any better, she thought she saw him visibly flinch. But it was a fleeting moment, and his mouth erased any brief doubts in her mind. "Touché. Such harsh words. You'd be bored without me, you know. Bored, and might I add, dreadfully **boring**, as well." 

"Oh yes, I can see how much more **_exciting_** my life is with you around. Let me raise a toast." 

"Sarcasm truly does not become you." 

"And you wear it on your shirt like a very rancid cologne. The stench is overpowering, I might add." 

"Not as overpowering as your charm, my dear." 

At this point, Filia had reached for the nearest blunt object she could find; which was a small China vase her grandmother had given her long ago. In the next moment, it was flung across the room with as much force as she could put into it, and not surprisingly smashed against the wall where he had been standing just a split-second ago. 

"I'VE HAD IT!!!" she screamed. "Why will you not let me be!!?? Why do you insist on giving me such grief? Why? WHY??!!!" 

With an anguished cry, she collapsed in a heap onto the floor, where the tears rolled down her cheeks and she tried desperately to cover her sobs with her hands. She failed miserably. It seemed as though the anger, the frustration, the anxiety, everything that had been building up inside of her, was poured into those tears and those sobs, and she felt as though if she cried anymore, she would break into pieces. But she could not stop. The harder she tried to stop crying, the harder she cried. 

He stood a few feet away, watching her with an unreadable expression on his face. In truth, he hadn't been trying to upset her; it just came naturally. He had wanted to make her forget about her worries, but instead had succeeded in making her cry. Ten points for him. Take the cup; you're a winner. 

The old Xelloss would not have cared. He tried to tell himself that he didn't care now, and never would care; after all, if Beastmaster could see him now, how disappointed in him she would be! Getting a little uncomfortable over just a few tears? Surely not! You're slipping, old boy. Slipping fast. Get yourself together! This is not the character of a hardened killer, a warrior for evil, and a slave to the darkness. 

He sighed inwardly, and shook his head. No…perhaps she wouldn't say that to him now. If she could see him now, she would realize that he wasn't the same Xelloss anymore, no matter how hard he might have tried to hang onto that part of himself. He had lost that battle centuries ago. He wasn't exactly a slave to the darkness anymore, nor was he a warrior for evil. He had not seen his master in over seven hundred years. For all he knew, she was dead, having disappeared without a trace. The Mazoku race was gone, and by some chance of fate unknown to him, he had been left behind. It used to anger him beyond all reason that he had not disappeared as well. Why had he been left behind, when he deserved to be with his kind, wherever they were? Why had Fate chosen to let him stay in this world, alone and with no purpose? 

Perhaps it was because of all the times he had played Fate. Toyed with it. Played the deciding factor in the destruction of people's lives. Perhaps it was because of this that Fate had decided to let him spend eternity on this planet, alone, to be reminded of the days when he had everything, and now he had nothing. He was, in short, nothing but a shadow of his former self. A shadow…a reflection…an image. An image of nothing. 

But Filia, who by all means did not deserve to remember those days at all, still saw, on some occasions, the reflection for what he truly was. Even if she didn't understand it, there were times he knew that some part of her spirit…the deepest, darkest parts of her mind and soul…remembered him for what he had been. In some ways it was refreshing. In other ways, it was not. It was dangerous for her to remember anything at all, because he knew that if her memory returned, it would be disastrous. At the same time, he could not help the way he acted around her. It was too much like old times; and she was ever so much fun to torment. It made him feel alive, almost. It made him feel as though some shred of purpose had returned to his existence, and that was, in itself, refreshing. 

But his master would be dreadfully disappointed in him. He had come to realize that what was most refreshing to him was that Filia seemed to accept him. Despite the fact that he annoyed her and did his best to torment her, she had truly accepted him for who and what he was. He had not expected her to; after all, despite certain events in their past and changes in their relationship, back in those days, she really had never accepted him. And, in some way, he had never accepted her. Things had just been too difficult for both of them, and in the end it had resulted in unavoidable tragedy. 

Could things be different now? He could not dare to hope. After all, he was still a 'ghost' to her, even if he had told her at least some of the truth that he wasn't really a ghost in that sense. 

The renewed sound of her sobbing brought him back to his senses, and he flinched with each muffled, shark intake of her breath between sobs. Finally, he knelt down beside of her and did what he never could do back then; wrapped his arms around her, and brought her head to lie against his chest. He expected her to pull away and slap him, but was shocked to find her responding by flinging her arms around his waist and burying her face into the cloth of his shirt. His eyes opened wide, and he could only stare at her golden mane of hair, which was slowly coming undone from its neat bun and spilling over her shoulders in a frazzled, messy heap. 

"Come now, Filia," he said in his most soothing voice, which really wasn't all that soothing in his opinion. He stopped at that, not knowing what else to say. 

Finally her sobbing ceased into an occasional sniffle, but her grip on his waist did not loosen. "I hate you," she whispered, though it took him a moment to understand as her face was still buried in his shirt. 

He chuckled. "I know you do." 

"And you hate me." 

"No." 

"You do." 

"Of course not." 

"Then why do you act like you do?" 

"I only tease you. I did not intend to upset you so badly." 

"Do you expect me to believe that?" 

He hesitated. "No, I suppose I don't." 

Filia leaned back a little to look up at him, regarding him carefully for several moments. There was something in her expression that made him a little uncomfortable, but he did not look away…or rather, could not look away. 

"What?" he asked. 

"I'm only wondering," she replied. "Why it is you are so difficult to understand." 

"It is the way I am," he said. "I can't claim to understand myself, either." 

She smiled, then, after which he felt something lurch inside of him, and why, exactly, did Filia's lips look so inviting? 

It was at this point that he was all at once annoyed and grateful that the doorbell started ringing downstairs. A second later, Filia jumped to her feet and was running out of the bedroom door, leaving him still sitting on the floor in a dazed state. He sighed, and shook his head to clear his thoughts. 

Filia's heart was pounding faster than she would have thought possible, and tried to tell herself she was only anxious about getting a letter from Mr. Gordon…certainly not because of how close those violet eyes had been to her own blue ones…and how she had been so sure that he had been about to kiss her…no, not at all. She did her best to straighten her hair, and finally gave up before she reached the front door. Taking a deep breath, she flung it open. 

"Letter for Ms. Ul Copt," the mail carrier said, before she could say anything. He winked. She blushed, and said a polite 'thank-you' as she closed the door. The mail carrier was startled to hear a loud scream of delight as he walked away, and smiled. 

"It came!" she cried, rushing into the kitchen where George and Jacob had started dinner. 

"Aw, 'dat's awfully good to hear, Miss Filia," Jacob said, inwardly thanking the Heavens above for saving him. 

Filia sat down and read aloud: "Dear Ms. Ul copt. I am pleased to inform you that your pottery has sold like clockwork. We have had several requests for more, and would be honored if you would bring us another supply this coming week. Enclosed is a cheque for 200 pounds. We hope to see you soon. Sincerely, Mr. Gordon." 

Filia was beyond ecstatic. "Finally, I can pay off the rent! We're staying!" She gushed about this for several more minutes before rushing upstairs to find the one that she needed to thank. She walked in to find him lounging on the window's ledge, one foot dangling onto the floor, the other propped up against the wall. He gave her a short smile. 

"Congratulations, Filia," he said. 

"Thank you," she replied. "Thank you…for everything." 

He waved his hand in dismissal. "No need to thank me, my dear." 

"No, really, I want to thank you. You've done so much for me. I'm…sorry I said those things earlier." 

He laughed. "Apologies do not become you, either." 

She bristled. "I'm trying to be nice!" 

"For what reason, may I ask? Because I made you cry?" the sneer in his voice was obvious. 

She stared at him in disbelief. Could his attitude really have changed that fast? What was wrong with him? It was really too much for her, and she snapped. 

"On second thought, I'm **not** sorry," she bit back. "You're right…why do I need to be nice to you when you **did** make me cry? You, with your indifference. You, with your need to confuse me and distract me in some way, mostly by getting me so angry at you that I don't even know what I'm doing! You, with your mysterious and dark personality. Do you know why I think it is that you let me stay here? It's because **you** need **me**! You need me to feed your sadistic ego, because here you've been all alone in this house for goodness knows how long, with no one to torment except easily frightened drifters." 

He laughed. "Please. Spare me your little lectures, Filia." 

She ignored him. "Or, I remind you of **her**, don't I? This woman from your past that you can't let go of. What happened to her? She didn't want you, did she? She didn't want you and that destroyed you. You drove her to insanity. She didn't want you because you can't love anyone but yourself…and I don't think you love yourself, either. You're pathetic. You're a pathetic half-ghost, or whatever you are, who can't even haunt his own house correctly. You're pathetic because you are stuck in this little world that you've created for yourself." 

"That's enough, Filia." His voice was low, and if she'd been paying attention, she would have noticed the rising fury in his eyes. 

But she ignored him further. "Or maybe she didn't love you because she knew what you really were…a heartless demon bent on nothing but destruction…" 

"THAT'S ENOUGH!!!" 

She had never heard him scream. It was the most soul-shattering sound she had ever heard. She found that she could not say another word, and all of her anger, all of the rage that she had against him at that moment died away. It was as though a veil had been lifted off of her eyes, and she saw him. She truly **_saw_** the man that was standing there…his eyes blazing, his mouth twisted into a snarl, his entire body shaking with barely controlled fury. She realized just how much her words had affected him. She had never seen him angry. She had seen him melancholy…sad…indifferent…but never angry. And she decided that she didn't like it one bit. 

But he had made her angry…so very angry. 

However, did he deserve the things that she had said to him? It was obvious she had struck a nerve…a very sensitive nerve. One part of her conscience scolded herself for being so thoughtless and insensitive. The other part of her conscience argued that he had been asking for this for a long time. 

Before she could decide what to do, he disappeared, and it was left undecided. She had nothing to do but stand there, in dazed silence, her mind reeling with a whirlwind of thoughts. 

* * *

Feedback is greatly appreciated!! ^_^ 


	10. A Storm Approaches

A/N: Well...there's really not a lot to say about this chapter. Just that it took really long to write (sorry!) and I actually had this one proofread. By several different people, I might add (thanks!). So...does that mean it's a higher-quality chapter? I'll just let you read it and decide for yourself.

Just a side note...this is the most I have ever written for any story, as far as chapters go. There is hope!

**Restless Spirit Chapter 10 – A Storm Approaches**

It was as though the weather had it in for Filia that day, seeming to start from the moment the train arrived in London. In fact, as soon as she saw the tall buildings of the city in the distance, she also saw the dark clouds moving in, casting an ominous shadow in their presence. Filia could not help but shiver, and the chills weren't from the wind.

Indeed, once she, Val, and her two servants had unloaded all of her pottery that they could carry off of the train, she found herself stuck in the midst of a violent downpour. They all were standing next to the road underneath a booth of some sort, which did little to keep the rain from still drenching her and the crowd of other people also trying to seek shelter.

Val, George and Jacob were huddled together, holding an armload of pottery, all of which had been wrapped in order to keep them dry. Filia had insisted they do this. It really wasn't working very well, but they weren't about to argue with her, especially not in this case. Just by looking at her, they knew she was about to snap.

Filia was indeed not very pleased with the circumstances. She had come all of this way for what? To get stuck in the rain? There was no way she would be able to walk the entire five blocks to Gordon's antique shop in this weather. She did not want to get back on the train and bring her pottery back on another day, as she really did not have the money to pay for another train ticket, and would not have that money until she received another payment. Perhaps she should just walk it, anyway, regardless of the weather…but she wasn't thrilled with the idea of getting sick, nor her boys getting sick, and they most likely would if they had to walk all of that way to the shop.

What was she to do?

She hadn't been in the best of moods before she'd left for London in the first place. She was worried and angry with herself for being worried. Her last encounter with the ghost had brought on some disturbing thoughts. Had she truly angered him so much that he'd left for good? And why did that bother her more than she wanted to admit? Had he really deserved those things she'd said to him? But then again, had she really deserved to be treated the way he'd treated her? He was so confusing! One minute he was doing his best to aggravate her, the next he was tender and comforting her, and then once again he was being arrogant and rude. How was she to ever understand him?

She supposed that she never would, but it didn't stop her from trying. She thought she might have gained a little insight on his past, due to his outburst. He had been deeply affected when she had mentioned the woman from his past, which indicated to Filia that something terrible had happened between them. Just the look on his face, the raw anguish etched in every line…he had looked so much older then. Now, more than ever, Filia wanted to know what had happened and why he would stay in such a state of misery. She knew now that he was only trying to shelter himself from the world, trying to forget the past. But that wasn't possible, and she was beginning to understand why he had initially wanted her gone, but let her stay.

Filia knew that she reminded him of **_her_**.

She sighed, her mind troubled with too many thoughts. How could she do anything to help him? Did she even want to help him? It was possible that he was gone now, which would definitely take away the majority of her problems. However, it didn't erase the fact that she felt terrible about it. Curse him! As if he needed to confuse her more than he already had.

***

Xelloss watched her at a safe distance, invisible to everyone including Filia. He watched as her mind wandered, no doubt towards thoughts of him, and her expression went from distressed to angry to distressed again. He had watched her for the last few days, after the last fight. The state that he was in made it necessary to not speak to her…anything that she said to him would have had unknown consequences, and he was not about to lose his composure again.

But, oh how she confused him! One moment, he held her in his arms, and the next he wanted to strangle her perfect, soft neck. He would have, if he hadn't remembered…

That look in her eyes when he screamed at her, he had seen that look before, at a time when he had before lost control and acted without volition. He never wanted to see it again. That surprised, terrified look that also held a certain measure of understanding, which killed him inside. How could he explain himself to her? How could she have known?

She hadn't known then, and she didn't know now, he tried to convince himself. But it was obvious that he was causing her more grief than was necessary, and why, exactly, did that bother him? What was it about her that caused him to lose that part of himself that he had always hung onto…that part of him that had always defined who he was? He had lost his status and most of his powers, reducing him to no more than a wandering phantom without a destination. But he was still the Trickster, and could still derive pleasure from the pain of others. That would never change.

But not where she was concerned.

How long would it be before she remembered who she was? It was only a matter of time. The more she tried to piece together his past out of her own curiosity, the sooner she would realize that her past was intertwined with his. Their futures, however, could not be…should not be…

Even so, a small voice inside of him asked, _"Do you not wish for a second chance? Now that you are free?"_

Free, indeed. He would never be free. Neither would Filia be free if he continued to drag her down into his dark world. She would be happier, more at peace, if she never had to see him again.

His thoughts were interrupted when he saw a carriage pull up to the side of the road, and the man inside called out to Filia. Xelloss narrowed his eyes, and moved in for a closer look.

***

"Hello, Ms. Ul Copt! Good day to you!"

Filia was also jolted out of her daydreaming by the sound of someone calling her name. Startled, she looked around, and saw a large horse-drawn cab pull up beside where she was standing. A man leaned out of his window, calling her name again, and she smiled with delight.

It was Gordon!

"Hello!" she called, waving.

"I see you're stuck in this dreadful weather," he said. "Shall I give you a ride to my store?"

Filia was shocked, and silently sent a prayer of thanks Heavenward. "Thank you so much," she gushed. "I truly appreciate it. I thought I was going to be standing here all day!"

"It's no trouble at all!" he said, and motioned for the cab driver to help Filia with her things. Fortunately, there was also room for Val, George, and Jacob.

On the way to the store, Filia asked, "What made you drive by the train station?"

"I knew you would most likely arrive today," he said. "And this weather is terrible, don't you agree? Ah, for a sunny day like yesterday."

Filia blushed. "You came all that way just to get me?"

He gave her a charming smile. "Of course. I can't leave a lady in distress, now can I?"

Her blush deepened. Val rolled his eyes, and wondered if his silly mother had even noticed the gold wedding band on Gordon's finger. Apparently she hadn't.

***

Xander Ashworth was also not finding the weather to his liking. Of course, it probably didn't have much to do with how his day was going, but it certainly wasn't making things any better. Gordon was an hour late, but that wasn't unusual. Being a business partner to that overgrown, simple-minded, bumbling fool was not what he had had in mind as a career, but Xander wasn't about to let go of his position at the store. They had the best business of any other weaponry and antique store in the city, and even though Gordon got on his last nerve, he considered Gordon and his wife as friends. They were nearly impossible to deal with, though Gordon was easier to handle than Elena. A large shipment of brand-new, high-quality swords had just arrived that morning, and if trying to do taxes and pay the bills wasn't enough to ruin his day, the short-tempered shrew walked in and demanded to know where Gordon was.

Xander sighed. "Elena, he's always late. Don't you know when he leaves?"

"He left two hours ago! In the wrong direction, I might add."

"That's certainly not my problem if he can't ever remember directions. You know him better than I do…he would lose his head if it weren't attached to his body."

Elena fumed. "That jelly-fish brain! I told him I would be in here this morning to help him unload the new shipment of swords. I'm not waiting around for him, if he can't be here on time, he can unload them himself. It's a good thing I made the cab wait."

Xander wanted to note that every time a new shipment came in, all Elena did was stand back and make several loud and opinionated observations about each item while he and Gordon did all the work. But he knew Elena enough to know that disagreeing with her was not a good idea. He merely sighed and said, "Don't worry, I'll let Gordon know you were here, Elena. We'll take care of things."

"I'm sure you can. Tell Gordon to come home for lunch," she replied, annoyed. "See you."

Once the door slammed in her wake, Xander rubbed his temple wearily. She was enough to drive anyone insane. Perhaps she was why Gordon was as absent-minded as he was.

Almost as soon as Elena left, the door opened again and Gordon walked in carrying an armload of pottery. Following him was the violent-tempered blonde woman, her son, and two servants. Xander sighed again, and decided that he'd wait to tell Gordon that Elena had just been there. Gordon was incredibly lucky Elena hadn't been here to see him walking in with another woman.

"Gordon, the swords arrived," he said.

"Wonderful!" Gordon replied, setting the pottery down. "Where are they?"

"In the back. I'll get them."

Gordon turned to Filia and said, "If you want to, you can set up your pottery in the same place, next to the antique ones. I'll be back in a few moments."

Once all of her pottery was unwrapped and placed on the small shelves, she went back to the front of the store. Gordon and Mr. Ashworth were unloading the swords and placing them on the wall, or leaning against the wall. Val stared at them, amazed.

"Can I hold one?" he asked Gordon.

"Val, no!" Filia cried. "Definitely not."

Gordon smiled. "Ah, better not," he said, but pulled out a small pocketknife from his front coat pocket. "Here you go. You can have this."

Val grinned. "Thanks!"

Filia glared at Gordon, who only smiled and said, "Ah, every small boy should have a pocket knife. I had a fairly large collection of them when I was a boy. An' he looks to be a smart lad; I don't imagine he'll go about cutting things up that he shouldn't, including himself." He chuckled.

Filia sighed. "I suppose so…"

Mr. Ashworth handed Gordon a large, white sword and said, "This one came specially made. Some new material they're experimenting with that makes the blade shinier."

Gordon looked it over, and held it up to the light. "You're right, it does! It looks almost like it's glowing. Isn't that a sight, Ms. Filia?"

Filia was speechless, her eyes wide.

Where had she seen this before? The sword in Gordon's hand did, indeed, look like it was glowing. A glowing sword…a sword of light…

Such a strong feeling of déjà vu came over her, that she suddenly felt that she would faint. She placed a hand on her forehead, trying to get her thoughts together…but more images came to mind. A bow…a sword…a dark, swirling cloud. Thunderstorm? No…it was much more dangerous than that. A storm unlike any other…a storm that could have destroyed the entire planet. A feeling of intense dread and hopelessness settled over her, and she suddenly felt as though she could scream.

"Ms. Ul Copt?"

Filia opened her eyes…or she thought she opened her eyes. Had they been closed? What happened?

She didn't think she'd spoken that last question aloud, but Gordon said in a concerned voice, "You went terribly pale for a minute, there. Are you not feeling well? Do you need to sit down?"

Filia realized she was shaking. "I, uh, think I need to go home," she said in a trembling voice. "Come, Val. George, Jacob…could you go outside and hail a cab?"

"Aye, Miss," Jacob said, staring at her for a moment before running outside.

***

She was in the kitchen. Only it didn't look like **her** kitchen. Where was she? She knew that she was home…but it didn't look like home. She felt like a stranger there, even though some part of her knew that this was where she was supposed to be. And she was alone. Terribly alone, and confused.

Then she looked at the floor, and saw blood. Her confusion melted away to terror. What had happened? Where was Val? That was the first question that came to mind. Where was Val? Was he hurt? Had they finally found him?

Who had found him? Even her own questions were confusing her.

And then someone called her name. She turned and saw **him**.

Only he looked different. He was wearing a cape, and carrying a staff…a long, wooden staff with a blood-red orb at the end. His eyes were closed. He was smiling at her; a smile that, in her present state of mind, seemed malevolent and evil. 

She heard herself speak, in a voice that she did not recognize. It was the voice of terrified agony. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

_"You killed him, didn't you?"_

He looked at her strangely, and for a moment she thought she saw concern flicker on his handsome face, a face that she had tried desperately to trust in the recent months. But he was feigning innocence, she knew it! He replied to her, "Killed who, Filia?"

**_"You killed my son!!!"_** she screamed at him.

His eyes opened then, and she beheld a look that she had never seen before. What was it? In her state of mind, she couldn't see…she couldn't understand. She could only understand pain. She had been so afraid that this would happen…that one day Val would become their victim, and she would not be there to save him. Her poor little boy. The blood…oh god, she didn't want to see…where was he? They would kill him, as they had been threatening to do ever since he was reborn. The poor little boy. He was defenseless. The cowards! It was her fault…her fault for leaving him alone for just a half an hour. She was a fool for trusting this…this **_monster_**!

A voice inside of her called for her to listen to reason…Val wasn't dead! He was asleep just down the hall. She was safe in England. No one was going to kill Val.

But she did not listen…could not listen. Her mind was drowning in the belief that they – whoever they were – had killed her son. She picked up the bloody knife on the floor, and chanted something, holding it in her hand, letting the blood drip over her fingers. She continued chanting, her eyes full of wild rage as she stared at the monster in her kitchen. She didn't know what she was chanting, but she didn't care.

Then she screamed one last time, her knife drawn – and her eyes flew open.

Darkness. The soft mattress beneath her. The cool chill of the night breeze through her window. She was in her bedroom.

A dream. It was just a dream. But it was a dream like no other dream…where she had been so sure that it was happening. She pressed her hand to her cheek, and felt the same tears. Her hand shook as she ran her fingers through her hair and sat up. She had kicked her blanket off of her, and the sheets were drenched with sweat. She felt as though she were losing her mind.

And her throat was hoarse, as though she truly had been screaming. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and placed her feet on the cold floor. Standing on wobbly legs, she lit a candle and went downstairs to get a drink of water. She somehow wasn't surprised to see the ghost sitting at her table, a full glass of water in front of him. She sat down across from him without a word, and he slid the glass of water to her. She downed the entire glass, and regarded him silently.

"Would you like another glass of water?" he asked.

She nodded. He refilled her glass and sat back down.

"Well?" he said. "Are you going to tell me about your dream?"

She shook her head. "I don't…think I can."

"Sure you can."

"Why did you stay away for so long?"

"Because I had things to do."

She shook her head. "No, I mean the last few days."

He stared at her. "What did you think I meant?"

She stared back, unsure. "I…don't know…I feel very confused. My dream…it was like an alternate reality. You were there…and I…"

"It was just a dream," he said quickly.

"But it was so horrifying."

"Most nightmares are."

"This was different! It was as though it actually happened. As though I were reliving it."

"Reliving what?"

"I don't know…I can't even begin to explain it. I just hope that I never have another dream like it."

Silence fell over them once more, until Filia said in a small voice, "I'm sorry that I said those things. You must have cared for her deeply."

He shrugged. "It was nothing. And…I cared for her in the only way that I could."

"Did she know?"

"Know what?"

"That you cared?"

He looked away. "In the end…she might have…"

"That's so sad," Filia replied. She paused, and then asked, "Do I remind you of her?"

"Yes."

More silence. Filia drank the rest of her water and stood to leave. She stopped at the kitchen door and looked back at him. His back was turned to her, as he was staring out of the window at the rain. The rain itself had not let up, but the lightning and thunder had stopped for the moment.

"You know," she said thoughtfully. "I wondered if you'd left for good."

He smiled, though she couldn't see. "Not yet." 


	11. Memories

** A/N: see after the fic. It just needs to be there. **

**Chapter 11 - Memories **

Not yet. 

No, he hadn't left, nor did he think it possible to leave. But it was heavily weighing on his mind and he could no longer ignore it, most especially now as he sat in the chair across from her bed, listening to her labored breathing as Filia slept. It was night, and there was no moon, giving little light, but his eyes needed no light to see, and he could see her face clearly. Sweat glistened on her skin, and her head tossed and turned. She was dreaming again. The same dreams every night for almost a month. 

Their effects were taking their toll on her; though she slept, she never looked rested. She walked around as though she were in a daze. She lacked the motivation to do anything, and had to be forced out of bed in the morning. As loathe as he was to admit it, he was worried. And he blamed himself.

It was a mistake, letting her stay there. He had been fine without her. He had been perfectly miserable, but that was fine with him. He was still miserable, but in a different, less tolerable way…she consumed him. Consumed every bit of his thoughts, his actions, and his whole purpose for existing. After all, what other purpose for existing did he have? Who, exactly, did he have to report back to after the chaos was wrought? Chaos was just not as fun anymore, especially when he had only to give one glance at his favorite source of entertainment to realize that she was already in enough turmoil. And it was his fault. 

Not that he'd done anything _recently_, of course…but she was remembering. He knew it would happen eventually. Memories like the ones she held deep inside of her, struggling to break free, were of the sort that should never be remembered, but were terribly hard to forget. And it was amazing that she hadn't remembered them before. But the memories were manifesting themselves in her dreams. And once she realized them for what they truly were, he had no doubt that literally all hell would break loose. 

Of course, he'd never had the chance to explain himself back then, either. No, everything had happened so fast. Both of them had acted so hastily…on several occasions, but none so significantly as the end, when she had taken the knife she found in the kitchen, believing Val to be dead, and had attacked the only person in the room who, in her belief, could have committed that crime.

He hadn't killed Val, but he hadn't been able to tell her that, not in her state of mind. Val had not even been dead. The boy had cut himself on the knife while peeling an apple, and the wound had been fairly deep enough. At the time Filia had walked in the door, Val had been down at the stream washing his hand. 

He sighed, his mind brought back to the present by a soft cry from the current Filia, asleep and in the terrifying world of her nightmare. She was dreaming of that same moment, when in her mind all she could see was the image of her beloved adopted son lying somewhere broken and bloodied and beyond recognition, killed by those who would have his blood for the sins he committed in his past life. 

He doubted that she remembered the circumstances surrounding that event. Unfortunately, his memory was perfect. For a moment, he allowed himself to drift back to a time when he had not been quite as miserable. 

**flashback** 

_Another war**. **_

The news of this should have made him happy; after all, he gained so much publicity during the last war and had rather enjoyed himself. The mayhem, the chaos, the bloodshed. Not to mention negative tensions running at an all-time high. Fear, pain, anger, hatred, all the most delicious ones, and all free for the taking. He never felt so alive, so invigorated, and so full of energy as he did when there was a war. 

So why did he feel, instead, as though he were dreading it? 

He vaguely heard his master telling him that he had some time off to prepare himself for battle, as this time it would most likely be to the death of one side or the other, the gods or the monsters, and may very well perhaps mean the destruction of both. He also vaguely noted that she sounded neither happy nor frightened of this fact, but he was more concerned with how to break the news of the second war to someone else… 

*** 

However, when he arrived at Filia's small cottage, he was certain that she'd heard about it already. 

Perhaps a good clue was that the second he arrived, a rather large flower vase just barely missed connecting with his head. A second later, a very distraught dragon maiden had a fistful of his shirt and was screaming in his face. 

"WHY DID YOU LET THIS HAPPEN???!!!!" 

"I had no choice, Filia, dear," he replied as calmly as ever. "Do you honestly think I make all the decisions? You forget, I'm not a dark lord, I'm just a lowly associate." 

She backed down a little, but didn't let go of his shirt. "You still could have…I don't know…argued with them?" 

He smirked. "And I wouldn't be standing here right now if I did. Amazing how that works." 

"Of course, how could I forget, you're in it only for yourself, and no one else." 

"No, I'm in it for my master and no one else. She did give me time to prepare, you know…I'm assuming she meant that to be 'time to tell the little woman' and prepare _you_." 

"Prepare me? Prepare me for what?"

He gave her a look. "Filia, darling, were you alive during the last war?" 

She shook her head. 

"I rest my case. You might have heard plenty from others who were alive during the war. But hearing and experiencing are two different things." 

She finally let go of his shirt and sat down, holding her head in her hands. She looked as though she were about to cry. He didn't want to see that, as much as he professed to be indifferent to the tears of a woman, it was still uncomfortable. So he fixed them both a cup of tea and sat down across from her. He folded his hands in front of him, relaxing them on the table and looking at her squarely. 

"It won't be easy," he said, not wasting any time. "You know that and I know that. Master knows that, as well, since she knows about this little fling we've been having. It doesn't bother her, you know…I've always had odd tastes and she figures that if it keeps me busy, then she won't have me underfoot when there's nothing to do. However…" he took a sip of his tea for dramatic effect. "I'll certainly be busy now." 

"Busy killing…my people…" she mumbled. 

"You knew one day it would happen again. I knew it…I just didn't know it would be this soon. This, what we had, was fun for awhile, Filia, but reality has set in yet again." 

She looked at him with a terrible, pained look in her eyes. "Will you…will you…have to kill me?" 

He smiled at her, actually smiled, which surprised her. "Of course not. You won't be in this war, will you?" 

She hesitated, and his eyes darkened. In an instant, he understood. 

"They've asked you to join them." It was a statement, not a question. 

She nodded. 

"I see. And what did you say?" 

"I told them I would think about it." 

Somehow, this didn't surprise him. "After they betrayed you, and all that you stood for, you would join them again?" 

"They're my people." 

"They would gladly risk your life for their own gain." 

"And also would your people do the same for you, Xelloss." 

"True, but – " 

"No. Just stop. I told them that I would think about it, but if it's what I decide to do, then so be it. Don't ask me to not fight…I will not - could not ask you to step down from what you believe to be your duty." 

"So that's it, then. We're to become enemies once more." 

She didn't reply, only stared down at her cooling cup of tea that she had yet to touch. 

"Drink your tea," he said, taking the last swig of his. 

He wanted to ask her how she really felt about the whole situation…apparently she was angry…perhaps angry at herself for even thinking about rejoining the people who had shunned her. He didn't trust them, and didn't know why she all of a sudden did. What about Val? Were the Golds suddenly forgiving of the boy's past life? They hadn't been the last time he'd checked. His race could care less, though he had never been able to convince Filia of this. 

He knew it would be a mistake to keep seeing her on a regular basis. Seeing her today was likely to have its own consequences, as each side geared up to find the other's weak spots. Anything and everything would do, even if it meant getting personal. He found it odd, though not surprising, that the Golds had paid her a visit today, probably not long before he arrived. Imagine if he'd showed up while they were still around. Oh what fun he could have had! 

But things were not so fun, now, as he found himself wishing for calmer weather, so to speak. Just what would his superiors think of him if they knew he **_wasn't_** really wishing to go out and fight? Out of character, no doubt, is what they would say. They'd ask to take his temperature…and then proceed to tear him apart, of that he was sure. He could do without the bodily harm for now. He'd have to get in the mood to fight, and fast. 

He felt slightly disgusted with himself, too, in a way. So he was a little concerned with how things would turn out. That was normal. He was also concerned about the effects of the war on Filia, whether she decided to fight alongside her people or not. If she decided to fight, it would be the end of whatever kind of relationship they had, be it a friendship or anything of the sort. It just would not be possible. But if she didn't fight, he didn't think that the trust in him that she had taken so long to build up would last. She would become convinced that he was conspiring against her, most likely to take Val and use him in the war. Or something to that extent. 

These thoughts were not normal. He should be focusing on preparations for the war. He knew deep down that no matter what, whatever he had going on with Filia would effectively come to an end. 

He wasn't exactly sure what their relationship entailed. He just found himself at her house more often than usual, and he found her to be less violent than usual. Sometimes, like they were doing at the moment, just sitting around the table sharing tea or cookies and talking about the weather. It made him feel almost…normal. And this wasn't as boring as he thought it would be. Again, out of character. 

Perhaps this war was a sign for him to get back into character. 

But he couldn't bring himself to voice that. 

She finally took a sip of her tea and grimaced. It was too cold by then to enjoy. "So what are we to do, then?" she asked. 

"You tell me. Any suggestions I make are normally thrown out the window." 

She shrugged, very non-Filia-like. "I don't know…I haven't had time to give it much thought. I don't…I don't suppose I'll see you at all. Maybe this is a good thing. You're a bad influence on me." 

"That I am." 

They shared a brief smile before Xelloss announced that he had to be going. He placed a quick kiss on her lips, which she returned for a moment before they both pulled away, and that was that. No more words were said. 

The next time he returned, he expected to find only Jillas and Grabos, but he had been half-hoping to see her there, instead of on the battlefield at some point. Much to his carefully concealed relief, there she was, standing at the kitchen sink, doing dishes. However, she didn't acknowledge his presence. 

Not a good sign. 

"What, no dinner?" he asked, joking. He didn't get a reply, and it took him another moment or two to realize that there were tears running down her cheeks. 

He hated tears. Blessed, beautiful tears. Sadness and pain, he loved, but the tears were unnecessary, weren't they? 

Filia finally turned to him and said, "He's dead." 

"Val?" 

"No," she shook her head. "Jillas." 

"How in the world did that happen?" he asked, confused. 

She bit back a sob as she sat down. "He was attacked. Val was with him, and managed to escape…because Jillas distracted them long enough for him to get back here. I…I was in the bedroom when he came in and told me what happened. The poor child was so traumatized. Grabos is in a state of shock, after having a breakdown when we finally found Jillas' body…or what was left of it." 

Xelloss could not control the involuntary shudder that went through him. As much as he had despised the little fox man, Jillas had his good qualities. Loyalty. Well, basically just loyalty. But apparently he'd made a good distraction. 

It was as he was thinking about this that he noticed Filia looking at him strangely. "What?" 

"Where were you?" 

"Do you really want me to answer that?" 

She frowned and then looked away. "You wouldn't have…oh never mind. I just can't bring myself to say it." 

"You mean, would I have attacked Val and killed Jillas?" 

She didn't reply, but he knew that was the case. 

"Filia, I did not attack Val and Jillas. I've been away, doing things that aren't much better, but you have my word, as shifty as it is, that I did not do that." 

She nodded, not looking in the least bit convinced. He was relieved, though, when she let it go. For the time being. 

The next time, he was not so fortunate. Neither was she. 

It was the next time that he returned, about a year into the war, that he found Filia standing in the kitchen with a bloody knife in her hand, and a crazed look of horror on her face.   
  
"Filia?" 

She turned around and saw him, and for a moment he saw a flicker of relief, but it was quickly replaced by extreme agony. Something had happened, and he wasn't exactly sure. He was growing more and more concerned with the fact that she really did not seem like herself at the moment, and was holding a bloody knife. She was looking at him with rage and pain, and accusations in her eyes. 

She said, in a voice that didn't sound like hers, "You killed him, didn't you?" 

He was shocked, but tried his best to maintain a calm composure. "Killed who, Filia?" 

**_"You killed my son!!!" _**

****

In that moment, Xelloss knew that Filia was gone. He could only watch her in helplessness, because there would be no reasoning with her. The war had finally driven her mad. Had Val really been killed? Did she think that the blood on the knife was her son's? Xelloss didn't know if Val was dead. He didn't have the chance to ask, because she was chanting a banishment spell. If it hit him, he would be done for. And when she attacked, all he could do was act on instinct. 

And when his attack struck her through the chest, it was clean. She fell to the floor in a heap, but still breathing. And then he acted again on instinct, but in a different way. He ran to her and lifted her head off of the floor, resting it in his lap. He felt something wet on his cheeks and refused to acknowledge those hated things called tears. 

Her eyes were still open, a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth down her chin. She smiled weakly. 

"I…am so tired," she whispered. 

"Go to sleep," he replied, rocking her gently. 

"I know you didn't…kill…Val…" 

He didn't know how to reply to that. 

She laughed a little, coughing up blood. "I guess…I just…lost it. I couldn't…take it…anymore. Worrying…about Val…about me…about you." 

"You worried about me?" 

She laughed again. More blood. "Silly…me. Maybe now I can…rest…so tired…" 

Her eyes closed. Her breathing stopped, and he didn't know what to think. He felt nothing, though he felt like he should do something for her. He laid her back on the floor, his body numb, and went outside. There was the clothesline, where Filia had done her laundry earlier that day. He tried not to think about the fact that no one would be there to get her clothes down from the line. He grimaced as the thought crossed his mind, anyway. There were a couple of sheets hanging there; he took one down to cover her body with. Perhaps he should bury her. But perhaps he should leave her body for the Golds to find, so that they would be able to give her the proper dragon burial. 

A movement off to the left caught his attention, and lo and behold, there came Val. For a moment, he wasn't sure what he was seeing, but there was the boy, safe and sound, coming up the hill from the stream. He was holding his hand to his chest, looking a little pale and woozy. Xelloss could only think of keeping the sight of Filia's body away from Val's eyes. 

"Hello there, young Val," he called, and went over to the boy. "What happened to your hand?" 

"I cut it," Val replied. "I was hungry and cut an apple and I cut myself." 

"Where's Grabos?" 

"He's down by the stream, too. He took me down there to wash my hands and he should be coming soon." 

"I see. Well, listen Val, I need you to tell Grabos to come here. Please? I need to tell him something." 

Val looked at him strangely, but did as he was told. Obedient, quiet, much different from the man he'd been in his past life, Xelloss mused with an air of bitterness. 

He saw Grabos tell Val to stay at the stream while the beast came up the hill to see what Xelloss wanted. Grabos had never trusted Xelloss; neither had Jillas. Both of them had always been afraid of higher-level demons, the only they'd ever trusted had been Val, himself. Fiercely loyal to the end. Grabos approached Xelloss cautiously and asked, "What do you want?" 

"Get the boy and get away from here as fast as you can," Xelloss said, not wasting any time. "Filia…well, she's…dead." 

Grabos stared at him in horror. "You killed her…you bastard." 

He smiled disdainfully. "To the end," he replied. "But as I can be a nicer bastard than a lot of my kind, I'm telling you to take the boy away from here if you want him to live. I'm sure it makes no difference, but it was an accident that she died. She believed that the boy was dead, and lost her mind. I had no choice but to act. I will take care of things here." 

"W-where would I go?" 

"Anywhere." He sighed heavily, and went back to the house, leaving Grabos to stare after him in confusion and panic. 

Xelloss took the sheet that he had picked, and wrapped her body gently. He then picked her up in his arms, looking down at her face, which was peaceful, as though she were merely sleeping. 

"Such a waste," he whispered. "He was alive, Filia…why didn't you just go down to the stream? He was there…you would still be alive. And I wouldn't be taking a trip to the Golden Dragons right now, in the middle of a war, to give them your body. Do you know how much this is against the rules and regulations? This is a major war violation. Not as if we really have rules, but this won't be viewed as a good decision. Why did you have to let the war get to you so bad? Why couldn't you just be indifferent to things, like me? It takes practice, you know…but it's so much easier to harden your heart against the things you have to do or else. Only…I can't quite harden my heart to the fact that I just killed you." 

He stopped talking then, realizing he was talking out loud, and realizing that he could no longer continue without his voice breaking. 

*** 

In the valley, he stood before a large group of them, all of them staring at him with a mixture of fear, anger, and disbelief. Mostly fear and anger that he would invade their sanctions during wartime. But he calmly explained to them that he was not there to fight. He knew they didn't believe him, but he didn't care. 

He held the body of Filia in his arms, holding her close to him as though unconsciously not wanting to let go of her. He looked down at her face once again, knowing it would be the last time he would ever see her. 

"I bring you the body of Filia ul Copt. She was a member of your race." 

They looked at each other. Milgazia stepped out from the group and looked Xelloss hard in the face. "Why do you bother bringing her to us?" 

"Because she deserves a proper burial." 

Milgazia looked down at her face. "She was a betrayer of our kind. She associated with _you_. Why do you bring her to _us_? If you actually care so much, bury her yourself." 

Milgazia turned to walk away, but didn't get very far before he found himself face to face with one **_angry_** demon. Anytime Xelloss showed emotion, it was normally sadistic glee or snarling rage. Which was more bone-chillingly frightening? Milgazia didn't know, either, because after the look of snarling rage passed, a look of demonic glee settled over his features. Milgazia had to fight very hard to control his bladder. 

"I said she deserves a **proper** burial. Do I have to stand over all of you to make sure that it gets done? Come now, Milgazia, don't make me wait. You know how impatient I get." 

Indeed, the burial was done, and Xelloss tried to convince himself that Filia would have wanted it that way. But of course he would never know. 

***end flashback*** 

Xelloss sighed, noting that her dreams had subsided and she was now sleeping at least peacefully. He placed a shaking hand over his face and tried to ignore the terrible gnawing where his stomach should have been. What good did it do to think about all of that now? He couldn't change it. He couldn't change anything. But what would happen if she fully remembered all of that? The war itself had taken an incredible toll on her, not just physically but mentally. She had been pulled by one side, the Golds, made to feel the most extreme measures of guilt and shame, and then had to endure attacks from monsters and demons alike, all of which were after Val. He hadn't known where Grabos had taken Val after that. He never found out. After the war, he had lost contact with virtually everyone. Not that he really had anyone left to contact. 

He was afraid. As much as he hated to admit it, he was afraid of what would happen if Filia regained her memories. The emotional turmoil might prove to be too much for her. She had a stable life now; there was no war. There might eventually be wars in her lifetime, but he hoped that it was nothing quite as bad as before. She needed to feel safe. She needed her son to feel safe. Most of all, she needed a break. 

Could she really have that break while he was there? He wasn't exactly sure. Was he in the way of her true happiness? 

Why did he feel like the answer to all of those was 'yes'? And when had he started caring? Out of character, his master would say. Only she wasn't there, as duly noted before. 

He felt like he was just going in circles with the same thoughts, over and over again. How was he going to break the cycle? 

He was jolted out of his thoughts when he saw her stir and open her eyes. She blinked a few moments before rubbing her eyes. The first lights of dawn were peeking over the horizon, illuminating her face. She smiled, and then turned her head to the chair where he'd been sitting. It was empty. 

She frowned; sure that she had felt his presence there. Shrugging, she put on her robe and went downstairs for breakfast. 

***

** Well, I really took quite a long time to finish this. Apologies, sincerely. I hope it lived up to the expectations. All this time and I've really only worked on a couple drafts, none of which were very appealing to me. This one got started earlier today and I took several breaks in between to think about a few things. One thing...I'm not real sure about the specifics of the War of the Monster's Fall or whatever it's name is. It's been a really long time since I've watched the series, and I can't remember if there was a war before that, other than the one between Shabby and Cephied. Anyway, if I got anything out of context or something's not right, just point it out to me and I'll fix it. Another thing is, I do not do well with death scenes. Please forgive the cheesy dialogue and the one line that is a blatant ode to South Park. I'm sorry. **


	12. Confession

A/N: I have no idea how well this chapter turned out, or how well it will be received. I like it, though it's a little lengthy for me. I gave it a lot of thought, actually, so this is how it is and I don't really want to change anything. First word of warning, it has some religious aspects to it, hence the chapter title, ta da, 'Confession'. Think of the time period, the setting, and the person. England at the turn of the century, and Filia, one of the most religious in the whole Slayers series. Of course she'd be religious in her second life! The church is the Church of England, which is a lot like the Catholic church. The dream interpretation was ripped from my favorite dream site: www.dreammoods.com. Thanks to them, I mean no plagiarism, honest. It's all in fun, people. I've really got worse things to worry about than someone getting offended by this chapter, so if you do get offended, you know what you can do. 

**Chapter 12 – Confession**

Filia had finally had enough. In her mind, she had begun to wonder if the terrible dreams she'd been having were a message from God that something was terribly wrong, whether it was an omen of some tragedy in the future, or something was wrong in her life. Either way, she had to find out, and the only person she knew that she could trust was in a place that she had turned away from years ago. 

The looming towers of the church cast her in shadows as she stood beneath them at the building's entrance. How could she be going back to this place now, after all that had happened before with her grandfather? This place, and its people, had turned their backs on her when she adopted young Val out of compassion. She was too young, they told her. She had no business with a child. What about her reputation? People would think her a loose woman, despite the fact that she wasn't, but they didn't know that. Val came from an unknown family of unknown origins. All Filia knew was that they were distant relatives, and had for some reason left him in her care. She couldn't very well abandon him. 

He'd arrived to her in a bundle, a tiny infant, brought by someone and left on her doorstep with a note attached that read: 

_To Miss Filia ul Copt, granddaughter of Elton Dequator, II _

This is Valteria, our son and last living heir. We can no longer care for him, as our health is failing, as well. He is our pride and our joy, and we hope that you will care for him as we have. Please forgive us for the surprise. We know that you don't know us, but we know you, and we know that you are honorable. 

The letter was unsigned. At first, Filia wasn't sure if it was some sort of joke. But something inside her told her that it was no joke. There was a note of desperation in those written words that Filia could almost hear, as though hearing the writer speaking them. What, then, was she to do? 

Indeed, taking one look at the sleeping child's face, all doubt was erased from her mind. Picking him up, she felt as though she were holding her own flesh and blood. And when his eyes opened, they were the color of bright gold, a gold that would fade to look almost light brown as he grew older. The intensity of the infant's eyes told Filia that she held no ordinary child. 

So she adopted him. It was several years before her grandfather finally drove her to leave both his home and the church, but here she was again, back at the church. Her son was older. She was in a new area, with new people, no one knew her, and no one had seemed to care that she was an unmarried woman with a son. For all they knew, she was a widow. Her grandfather had been the one to spread the rumors about her that she was a woman of ill-repute, and had turned the entire congregation against her. This was different. 

She hoped. 

For the moment, she was merely going to confession, hoping to gain some insight from the priest about her dreams. That was why her son and two servants were not with her. She had to do this alone, without worrying about anything else. She briefly wondered if the 'ghost' had followed her, and would listen to what she told the priest, but she had not seen him in nearly a week. Perhaps he was gone. 

She sighed again, not wanting to continue that train of thought. Taking a deep breath, she entered the church, and found a confession booth. She sat down, and waited for the priest to open the window and speak to her. 

The sliding door opened shortly thereafter, and a gentle voice asked, "What is your confession, child?" 

Filia took a deep breath. "Well…I don't know how to say this…" 

"Whatever you tell me, child, shall be kept between us and the Lord. I would hear anything you say with confidentiality." 

"I know, that, Father, and I thank you," she replied. "But I'm afraid what I have to tell you isn't your normal confession." 

The priest chuckled warmly. "My dear, what is a normal confession? I have not heard any one confession that is like another." 

She blushed. "Well…you see…I don't really know what I've done." 

"I'm afraid I don't understand." 

"Well, lately I've been having…dreams." 

"What sort of dreams, my child?" 

"Not sexual dreams!" she hurried on quickly, eliciting another chuckle from the priest. "Not anything of _that_ sort…no, they're much worse…not that _those_ sort of dreams are any better…you know what I mean." 

"I do. Go on, tell me about your dreams." 

She sighed again. "I don't know what they are. They're confusing, I know that much. Starting out, I'm walking through a house that does not belong to me, even though it feels like it does, but I've never been in it to my recollection. I'm walking through the hall, looking into rooms, like I'm looking for someone. I start calling out names that I don't recognize, but at one point I call for Val, my adopted son. And no one answers me. I'm alone. 

"Eventually I start to panic, because I don't know where anyone is or what has happened. I'm afraid that something terrible has happened. I start to run through the hall again, continuing to look through rooms. And then all of a sudden, it's as though I was outside, and I open the door to the kitchen. I see blood; a knife on the counter, and blood, dripping onto the floor. At that moment, I…" Her voice began to shake. 

"Fear not, for you are safe, child," the priest said gently. "Go on." 

"I lose all coherent thought, Father. At that moment, I think that someone or something has killed my son. And then a man appears in my kitchen, out of nowhere, and says my name. He is a man that…I should not know, but somehow do. He shouldn't be in my dreams, anyway. He looks harmless enough, but I know there's something more to him than meets the eye. In that moment, I _know_ he killed my son, but the thing is, I _don't_ know, but at the moment I do. Does that make sense? I don't even know if my son is dead or not, but in my state of mind, I believe that he is. I pick up the bloody knife, say something that I don't understand, and run towards this man, ready to kill him. But I never do, and that's where I wake up." Finished with her story, Filia waited for the priest to respond. 

There was a long silence in which the priest thought over what she'd told him. Finally, he sighed, and spoke. "Those are troublesome words you speak to me, child," he said. "But do not be troubled. Dreams can be works of evil, or works of the Lord. How can you tell? I do not know, either, but I do know that your dream is very metaphorical to me. I can see many meanings in your dream, which may or may not be the case, and some answers that you may already know, yourself. But you come asking for my counsel; therefore I must tell you what the meaning of your dreams is, to the best of my knowledge. 

"Let's start at the beginning, shall we? You are in a house that you have never been in, but it feels like home to you. In a sense, you believe that this house is, in fact, your home?" 

"Yes." 

"Indeed, the home represents feelings of security, basic needs, and values. Perhaps the reason that you don't recognize your home is that someone or something is threatening those three things. Do you perhaps feel threatened, yourself?" 

"I…I don't know," she replied, thinking instantly of the ghost. He wasn't a major threat, was he? 

The priest continued, and Filia was already wondering if she wouldn't have been better off going to a psychiatrist rather than the church. 

"The fact that you were wandering through a hallway, looking into rooms, searching for someone or something, tells me that there is something missing in your life that you can't find, or can't seem to grasp. There is some aspect of yourself that you have neglected that needs nourished. Which leads me to the kitchen, which speaks of spiritual nourishment. You have been gone from the church for quite awhile, haven't you?" 

She grimaced. Perhaps this wasn't turning into a therapy session, after all. 

The priest chuckled warmly. "I do not speak entirely in jest. Never underestimate the strength of faith and the power of the church when we are united as one. While these dreams may not be result of becoming separated from the church, finding your faith again will help you." 

"I've never lost my faith in the Lord, Father," she replied. "But all of that aside, I feel that there's something…more, perhaps. Something else to my dreams that I'm missing. What about the bloody knife? This man that I see and try to kill?" 

"Wielding this knife may mean that there is repressed anger, frustration, and a need to separate something from yourself. There is something that you need to cut out of your life…what is causing you turmoil? Also this man that you see in your dream…is he someone that you know, and are just afraid to tell me, for fear of being reprimanded for some unknown occurrence? Blood often represents life, love, and passion. Is there something deep inside you, perhaps feelings or memories that you harbor for this man? The fact that he called your name may indicate that he is the only one who really saw you for who and what you really are. That you attack him because you feel he has killed your son may mean that you feel that he is threatening your family, your stability, or your well-being." 

Filia's mind was in a whirlwind at this point, as what the priest was telling her was actually sinking in, and causing some of her own deep, personal theories to surface. How could she tell the priest that the man in question was haunting not only her dreams but also her everyday thoughts…and was technically not alive? He wasn't dead, either, but he wasn't human. Of that she was certain. If she told the priest this, he would immediately think it was a demon she was referring to. And how could she tell the good father that she had the distinct feeling that these dreams weren't just dreams…but memories? 

_The fact that he called your name may indicate that he is the only one who really saw you for who and what you really are. Is there something deep inside you, perhaps feelings or memories that you harbor for this man? _

"Father?" 

"Yes, child?" 

"If I told you something else…will you promise to not think that I've completely lost my mind?" 

"Of course," he replied, chuckling again. "Go on." 

She paused. "What if…I were to tell you that these dreams…I think these dreams are…memories." >[?"Memories?" He sounded positively confused. "Childhood memories?" 

"No…memories from a past life." 

The priest was silent for a long pause before he spoke again. "My child, what you speak of is directly against the teachings of the gospel. Why do you think these dreams are of a past life?" 

"Because I just…do. I can't explain the feelings, sensations, and emotions in these dreams, Father, nor can I explain the setting. I know you're telling me that all of these things are metaphors, and maybe they are, but there's something inside of me that insists that this was all real at one time. It's frightening! I don't want to believe it! I've never been in this house, but this house is real to me. I'm not lost, I know exactly where I'm going when in my dreams I walk through the hall. I know which rooms belong to whom, though I can't say their names or see their faces, I know who they are. It's like their identities are hidden from me. I know my son Valteria was there…I can see his face in my mind, and he looks different, but he's still Val. I know that man in my dreams who I believe killed my son. I know him now, in this time, but I'm not supposed to because he's not supposed to exist!" 

Filia's voice was getting louder and louder, drawing stares from people in the sanctuary. Several people looked at each other and shrugged, feeling somewhat sympathetic for the poor priest who had to listen to this crazy woman's confession. 

The priest, however, was very patient. Father Milton was indeed older than he looked and sounded, and while he was extremely religious, he secretly believed in past lives, as well. He vaguely remembered his past life, as well, though it had ended quite tragically in some long, drawn-out war. Of course he would never tell anyone this, not even the young, distraught woman sitting across from him that he could only barely make out through the screen. But he had to tell her something. He couldn't just tell her to pray about it and all would be fine…though prayer certainly wouldn't hurt, of that he was certain. But this was something that was not possible to explain, and he wasn't going to continue to try. He had rather thought his dream interpretation had been spot-on, and perhaps it still was, but past lives were something he was not willing to try to explain. 

"Well," he began. "I really don't know what to say. I think that you were wise in telling me these things, but at the moment I truly don't know what I can tell you to do. Except pray, of course, and perhaps the Lord will lead you to understanding." 

Filia nodded, knowing full well that this was the answer she was going to receive. She had rather hoped for more, though, but truly she wasn't surprised or disappointed. What did she expect? 

"Thank you Father," she said quickly, and stood up. 

He sighed and said, "You are quite welcome, child. Go with God." 

***

Later that evening, when Filia returned home, she decided to head to the bathhouse and relax for a while. It was getting dark, but she wasn't hungry and Jacob had already fed Val, who was reading in his room. She was tired and her head hurt from all the thinking she'd been doing that day. Thinking wasn't good, but she did a lot of it, unfortunately. 

She slipped into the water and sighed, keeping an eye on the window, half-expecting to see a pair of violet eyes staring back at her. Nothing. Where was he, anyway? She had a feeling that her dreams bothered him, though she didn't know why. Some crazy part of her that she tried to ignore kept insisting that he knew more about her dreams than he let on. She hadn't told him a lot, just bits and pieces, but he always avoided the subject whenever he could. He hadn't been around as much. Sometimes she thought she would see him out of the corner of her eye, but when she turned her head, there would be no one there. It was a little unnerving, and she tried speaking to him…to thin air, rather, but just in case he was there…but no results. Some days he didn't show up at all. In fact, she couldn't remember the last time she'd seen him. 

What was wrong with him? And why did it matter? Questions she wanted to ask him rolled around in her head with no way of asking him. Why did she continue to have the same dream in which she accused him of killing her son? On more than one occasion, in her dreams she called him a strange name…that brought to her attention the fact that she had never learned his name. She simply called him 'the ghost' or 'the pest'. Why hadn't she once asked his name? Why hadn't he told her? Upon waking, she would never be able to remember it, exactly. Selas? Solace? Zealous? All sounded so close, yet so far. Just like he was, himself. 

Those things that the priest had told her also unnerved her. _The fact that he called your name may indicate that he is the only one who really saw you for who and what you really are._ That statement had sent a shockwave down her spine like nothing else. It was such a silly thing, really…how could 'the ghost', or whatever his name was, really know her? Then again, she had lived in that house for almost ten months. But if her dreams were really memories…and that was a scary thought in and of itself…then why was he in her present? Brought to the point of insane curiosity, her mind began to reel with the possibilities. What had happened to him? Or her? Had she really killed him with that knife? Perhaps she'd only injured him. How did they know each other? What had been their relationship? Why had she been so quick to assume that Val was dead and that he had been the one that killed her son? Was that why he always avoided talking about her dreams? 

And then something hit her. _That woman_…the woman he knew long ago! The one he had been moping about whenever she'd first moved into the house. She'd owned a pottery shop. Filia reminded him of her. What if…? 

She mentally slapped herself. How could she continue going on this way without completely losing her mind? There was no such thing as a past life. Right…like there were no such thing as ghosts…or at least those who could pass as ghosts, according to him. 

It wasn't as though the dreams/memories really mattered. That was in the past. She was in the present. And he was in the present. She wasn't sure she even wanted to understand. It was all too complicated. 

But unfortunately, she felt that tug, that insane pull to know what had happened. If she knew, maybe her dreams would end. But what if they didn't? What if, once she discovered what had truly happened, the dreams would never end? She would be forced to relive them forever. Something tragic had happened, of that she was sure. She just didn't know what, and was afraid to learn. 

She sighed again and wondered how all of this had started. It had been that day at the store…Gordon had received a shipment of new swords. How did swords play into the situation? She had no idea…she just remembered him holding one of the swords, the light hitting it, giving the impression that it was glowing. Glowing swords. It was then that something had sparked within her, and she'd had visions of evil, swarming clouds that seemed to engulf her, glowing weapons, and a bright light that pierced the sky. 

She had no idea what any of this meant, or how it would have to do with her dreams. Perhaps she needed to return to the store to see if there was anything else she remembered. She smiled to herself. What would she say to them? _"Um, excuse me, but I have been having memories of a past life and was wondering if you were, too?"_

She laughed in spite of how miserable she was feeling at the moment. At any rate, she decided that going back to the city might do her some good. She needed to get out. If nothing came of it, at least she would be out and about, doing something. Perhaps it would get her mind off of all of these things that were driving her mad. 


	13. Past, Present, and Future

A/N: *GASP* What have we here? Why, it's another chapter! Who would've ever guessed I'd crank out another one for this story? Certainly not me, I was just about ready to give up the ghost...ok so that was sort of a bad pun. Anyway, how this chapter came about...after starting this chapter several months ago I sat down tonight and said, "OK, I'm just going to write and no matter how crappy it is, keep writing." So the quality probably is not all that great...but hey, it's going somewhere! Anyway I'm done rambling. Read on.

Chapter 13 – The Past, Present, and Future

Filia fiddled with the edge of her hat, which she held in nervously trembling hands, as she stood once more across from the antique store. The people walking by certainly had no idea that a crazy woman stood in their midst. She resisted the urge to just announce it to everyone, since she felt quite like that was what she was about to do. Her reputation as a sane, upstanding woman of once-high society was about to end.

Of course, there was a part of her mind that insisted in arguing that she may be pleasantly surprised. This man named Gordon that had been such a help to her in the last few months may well be able to shed some light on the darkness that had seemed to take over. She hoped to talk to Gordon about this issue without the other man, Xander, present. That man had a cold, indifferent look that she had never liked and had thus let him know it.

Sighing she stopped fidgeting with her hat and placed the garment on her head, trying to maintain a bit of her proper posture. She must look a lady at all times even when she was unsure of herself. That was what had been drilled into her from day one. But hadn't all of the other things been drilled into her head as well? Past lives just didn't exist. There were no such things as ghosts, but demons did exist…

Surely there would be no doubt should a demon cross her path. She knew enough about spiritual warfare to know that demons did exist. But this…this man that had invaded her existence, she did not think he was truly evil. Perhaps at one time he might have been.

She would never forget that day when she had been so full of rage and frustration waiting for an answer to her prayers, and she had just wanted him to go away. Yet he had continued to provoke her, at least she had thought, but then when the walls had crumbled, he had suddenly changed. Always seeming to gain the upper hand, always having a comeback for everything she said, all of a sudden his arms had encircled her while she sobbed uncontrollably, and he had smoothed her disheveled hair. And she had clung to him like it was the only life she had. 

In the same day she had pushed him to a display of anger she had not seen since. What was it she had said to him to bring about such a reaction? And how could he induce such emotion in her? 

How could she have feelings for someone that in all logic was not supposed to exist? She knew that somehow he was connected to her dreams. Something, somewhere, was connected. She had to find out, and she could only hope that she found answers instead of more questions.

So that was why she was standing across from the antique shop. This man seemed to also have a connection to her dreams. It was here that she had seen a vision of horrific darkness that she still did not understand, but somehow it had triggered those dreams. She knew that if she didn't try to find out what was happening to her, she would never be able to move on.

Sighing, she picked up one foot and stepped onto the street, the other one following suit and eventually reaching the door. She rather felt as though she were stepping into oblivion. From here on her life would change.

When Filia opened the door of the antique shop, she was relieved to find Gordon behind the counter instead of Xander. He looked up as she walked in and smiled. "Ah, Ms. Ul Copt. More packages for us today?"

She shook her head. "Not today, Gordon," she replied. "I came to ask you a few questions."

"Oh?"

She fiddled with her purse, nervous as she could be. Her stomach was in knots. What if he actually had answers that she didn't want to hear? What if he told her she was insane and to get out of his store?

"Well, you see…" she started. "A few months ago while I was here, you had a shipment of swords. Remember?"

He thought a moment. "Nope. Did you want to buy one?"

She blinked. "No…I…actually wanted you to get out that one sword, the one that seemed to glow in the light."

He thought a moment, and then he snapped his fingers. "Oh. The sword of light, you mean?"

Filia blinked. "Sword of light? I didn't know it had a name."  
  


"Of course it has a name. It's a family heirloom. My grandfather sent it to me for my 25th birthday."

"But I thought you got it in a shipment?"

"No…at least I don't think so. You say you want to see it?"

She nodded, wondering what in the world he was talking about. But he had her curiosity piqued and she decided to go along. Though she had a bad feeling about it.

Gordon motioned for her to follow him. "This way. I have to keep it in a back room."

He led her to a room at the back of the store and unlocked the door. He lit a lantern that hung on the wall next to the door and ushered her inside.

"Don't tell anyone that I showed you this," he warned. "If my wife knew that I showed anyone, she would kill me."

Filia was surprised. "You're married?"

"Yes…you haven't met Elena?"

"…No, I haven't."

He frowned. "I was thinking that you had. Oh well, I suppose you haven't. If you had, there's probably no way you'd forget."

Filia was even more confused. What was that supposed to mean? "Well, anyway, I won't tell anyone about the sword," she said, not knowing what the big deal was.

He smiled and went to the corner of the room and picked up a sword handle with no blade. "The sheath was lost some time ago. Perhaps when it was returned to my family."

"It's broken?" she asked.

"No," he replied. "Watch carefully." He reached into his pocket and took out a pin, then stuck it into a tiny hole on the handle. He then stood back and held the handle away from him like someone would hold a regular sword…and waited.

Almost instantly, Filia could sense a tremendous surge of energy fill the room, causing her hair to stand on end. Her eyes widened as she saw a spark come from the empty sword…and then light. Bright, bright light in the shape of a sword. Hence, the sword of light.

And she had seen it before.

But where? And how? Even though the feeling of déjà vu had hit her like a strong gust of wind, no images came to mind. That ever-present block was still there, keeping her from remembering whatever it was that she needed to remember. But then…what if there really was nothing for her to remember? What if her dreams were merely caused by stress?

What if…she could ask that question all she wanted, but she wouldn't get any answers. 

***

Xelloss had followed her to the city, of course. He always did, and he knew that she sometimes looked for him. She couldn't see him now, and it was a good thing she couldn't sense him. He maintained a safe distance, just in case.

It was amazing how much she had looked like the old Filia he'd known as she stood across from the antique shop, with her eyes determined and terrified. Her old courage had not died with the new. She was still Filia. 

And she deserved better. Her end had been gruesome and terrible. It hadn't been planned. At one time or another he knew that might have been ordered to take her life, and at that time he might have done it quickly so that she wouldn't have known what hit her. Somehow, watching her face as she died, seeing no anger, no hatred…only peace…had haunted him ever since. 

Disobedience was no longer an issue. He still existed and his master didn't, and essentially he was free to do as he pleased. So why was he even bothering with this woman anymore? 

He knew why. Because connections are never truly noticed until they are severed. His connection with her had been severed and somehow reconnected. Was there truly a purpose in it? Had Fate in all her mischievousness given him a second chance?

In that case, he had to stop her from regaining her memory. But something just wouldn't allow him to intervene. He felt he had to keep his distance. Perhaps that was the catch. If she hadn't met him, she would have no reason to remember anything.

But when he saw Gourry bring out the sword of light, he felt as though time stopped. For her, time seemed to stop, as well. She simply stood there and stared, a look of disappointment on her face. Gourry, or Gordon, whoever he was now, didn't seem fazed at all.

"Was this what you wanted to see?" Gordon asked.

And then she smiled. "Thank you, Gordon," she replied. "I think that is exactly what I needed to see."

He nodded and all of a sudden the blade of light disappeared. The room returned to its normal lighting, and Xelloss quite thought that if he had a way to die, now would be the best time for it. What in the world was that all about? Did she remember anything or not? Just what did she mean by 'I think that's all I needed to see'? 

And so the second she stepped out of the antique shop, he appeared next to her. "So, see anything good?"

She looked him square in the face. "I _don't_ want to see you. Go away."

"Touché, Filia. You knew I followed you. What other form of entertainment do I have?"

"Go find other forms of entertainment."

"Did you find what you were looking for?"

She looked at the ground, avoiding his eyes. "No. But I had a strange feeling…"

"Oh?"

She shook her head. "Forget it. Leave me alone."

He shrugged, frowning. "Fine," he said, and disappeared. 

She stared at the empty spot where he'd been standing, rubbing her chin. That surprised her. Normally it wasn't that easy to get rid of him. Oh well, he had been acting strange lately…strange for him, anyway. Either way it wasn't her problem. She didn't need him harassing her on the way home. She wanted nothing more than to go back to her little white house overlooking the sea.

That was her home.

***

Later that evening, Filia could not shake the feeling that something just wasn't right, so she decided to take a walk on the beach. She had always been drawn to the ocean, never forgetting how as a child her mother would walk along the beach with her. They would gather seashells together, chase the gulls, or on warm days, take off their shoes and stockings and let the waves wash over their feet. 

_"Filia,"_ her mother would say_. "Sometimes this world, this life, can be like the sea. It can be calm one minute and turbulent the next. Sometimes it is deep, endless, and cold. Dark. Other times, you will be able to see dry land, a solid place where you can put your feet on the ground and move on." _

Filia still remembered that warm, gentle smile her mother had given her. Filia kept that smile close to heart, and always would.

Her mother had also said that just like life was the sea, the sea was also life. Even though one life may end, another will continue. Life itself does not stop. Perhaps that was the key to figuring out the mystery of her dreams. If in fact she had been given a second chance at life.

And Val, had he been given a second chance to live, as well? She had felt from the start that the two of them were connected somehow. Perhaps their bond was deeper than she thought. A connection that defied time. It wouldn't surprise her. Her adopted son was her pride and joy, and she would do anything in the world for him.

He was her reason to be there, if she had a reason to be there.

The dreams that continually haunted her night after night often left her with the feeling that somehow she had wronged him. Let him down. She'd failed as a mother, though she had always wanted to be one. She had always thought she would be a good mother. But there was something else, something that seemed hidden behind a veil, the events that might have occurred at that time. And deep in the back of her mind, confused though it was, she often wondered why she thought the ghost was involved. And when she thought these things, she wasn't sure if it was the present or past Filia that was doing the thinking.

If a past Filia even existed.

Seeing the sword of light earlier had opened her eyes to yet another supernatural existence. She had never seen a sword that emitted light…no, a sword that *was* light. She didn't even know that one existed. It was fascinating, but for some reason did not really surprise her as much as it should have. Perhaps because she already knew of something else that wasn't supposed to exist.

And she thought of him often. More than she wanted to. 

Since he also haunted her dreams, and she guessed that he probably knew that, she wondered what sort of past memories he held within that dark mind. Of course she really didn't think his mind was all that dark, just full of cobwebs and old memories that had stayed with him for too long. He was stuck in the past, hence why he didn't conform well in the present. Therefore she really could not fathom a future for him.

Then again, her future still seemed hazy.

She kicked a stray rock as she strolled along the beach, and reached down to pick it up. It was smooth, having been washed over by waves again and again, wearing each edge down. She stared at it a moment before tossing it back where it came from.

"Safe journey," she whispered, knowing full well it would probably end up right back where she got it. Just like her thoughts ended up back where she started, no matter how hard she tried to figure things out.

Sighing, she noticed that it was suddenly too cold for her. She turned around and went back to the house. 


	14. Unrest

A/N: Not much to say about this chapter except it moves things along a little bit and at least it's an update. I'm trying to get this story finished, and it's not wanting to get finished. But it WILL, I WILL finish it! Eventually...

Chapter 14

Things settled down for about a month. Filia continued to make her pottery, and began to get better at it, all the while fighting insomnia. She had begun to force herself to stay awake, for when she fell asleep, she was haunted by those terrible images. She would rather lose sleep.

She also hadn't seen him very often. Once in awhile he would drop by, but he would be gone for days at a time. It was odd behavior for him, she thought, and even when he was around, the insults and teasing was at a minimum. She often found herself gazing out of a window or staring off into space, wondering what he was up to. And of course she would shake her head and go on once she realized what she was doing.

For awhile, after the incident with the sword of light, Filia had come to realize that she was dealing with something bigger than she could comprehend, and she began to quit fighting the denial. The dreams were real, she wasn't crazy, at least not yet, and she could deal with the dreams in the meantime. That is, until Val began to have his own dreams.

She was sitting at the kitchen table one morning before dawn. It was normal now for her to lose sleep due to the nightmares, and while she was cranky and irritable, she was able to control her moods. She had a cup of tea in one hand and a muffin in the other, and dropped both when Val burst through the door, crying and sobbing uncontrollably.

Ignoring the shattered glass, Filia ran to him and he clung to her in a vice grip, shaking terribly. "Val, what's wrong, sweetheart?"

He didn't answer, only continued to wail loudly. It wasn't long before Jacob and George came barrelling down the stairs in their pajamas, their faces worried and alarmed.

"Young Val, is he alright?" Jacob questioned. Filia nodded, stroking her son's hair to soothe him. The young men stared at Val, troubled.

"What happened to him?"

"I'm not sure," she answered. "He hasn't said, but whatever it was scared him to death."

"Poor tyke," Jacob whispered. "We'll fix his breakfast for him."

Val's tremors and tears had begun to subside, and Filia coaxed him off the floor to sit in her lap. She continued smoothing his hair, until he decided he was ready to talk.

"I had a bad dream, Mama."

Filia's heart clenched. _No...not Val, too._ "What happened in your dream, Val?"

He took a deep, shaky breath and sighed. "I was on a hill, by myself. It was dark, and there was a dark cloud above me. Swirling. It was cold and the wind was blowing my hair in my face and I couldn't see. I called for you but you weren't there. Then...a voice said something. I couldn't recognize the voice but I know I've heard it before."

"Do you remember what it said?" Filia asked.

"No."

"Is that all that happened?"

"No. All of a sudden I was in the air and there were people below me. I think...they wanted to kill me."

Filia gasped. "Why would they want to kill you, Val?"

"I don't know. But they were looking at me and they were scared. I was scared, too, but I felt something else. I felt mad. So mad, Mama, and I don't even know why. And then I saw you. You were there. And you...you..."

"What, Val? Tell me."

"You were bleeding. Then I...looked at my hands. Only they weren't my hands, they were...they were like big claws. And they had blood on them. I hurt you and I didn't mean to, Mama, I didn't mean to, I promise! Mama, I promise!"

Val started wailing again and clung to her like she was going to disappear. She held him, her mind reeling with what he had just told her. Where would he have come up with such a tale? Surely a little boy would not dream such things!

Filia refused to believe the nightmares would plague her son. _They won't come back_, she thought. _This is because the tension is so high in this house and because he knows I've been having them. He senses that something is wrong and it's his fears acting themselves out in his sleep._

But she couldn't quite convince herself.

* * *

That evening as she and the boys prepared dinner, she happened to look out of the window and recognized that familiar dark shape wandering around underneath the trees. He caught her eye and motioned for her to come outside. She excused herself, saying she needed to go for a short walk. 

"What did you do to Val?" she said angrily, pointing a finger at him as she stormed toward him. He raised an eyebrow.

"What makes you think I've done anything to young Val?" he asked.

"Because he had a nightmare last night. He was terrified, saying he had claws and there was blood on them. Did you or did you not put those gruesome images in his head?"

She watched as a shadow passed over his face before it was replaced by genuine concern. "Claws and blood? That's pretty odd for a young boy to dream of. Does he read much? Perhaps a book he read put those images in his head."

"I'm sure he doesn't have any books like that!" she retorted.

"How do you know?"

"Because I buy all of his books!"

"You might have bought a bad one by mistake."

She groaned. "I just want to know if you've talked to Val by any chance. I'm very worried about him. I don't want him to start having nightmares, either."

"I can assure you I have not been talking to Val about blood and claws, at least."

She eyed him warily, wishing she could read his thoughts at that moment. He seemed more distant than ever. "Where have you been, anyway?"

He grinned broadly. "Missed me, have you?"

She blushed. "Not at all. I just wonder who you're off tormenting when you're not here."

"Some poor, unfortunate wench."

She grimaced. "How appropriate for you."

He smirked. "And how appropriate of you to believe me."

"Why would I care where you went?"

"How should I know? You're the one who asked."

Her blush deepened. She was getting infuriated by then. Why did it seem like he always came back with something she couldn't refute?

"Oh for goodness sake, I give up!" she cried, and turned to go back into the house.

"Am I invited to dinner?"

"No!"

* * *

Two nights later, after the rest of the household was in bed, Filia tried desperately to stay awake. She could feel her exhaustion fighting her every second, and she could barely keep her eyes open as she tried to read. The dim light from her gas lantern didn't help. 

She always lost the battle in the end, but she still fought. She did not want to see what tonight's nightmare had in store for her.

Val had had another nightmare the previous night, and that one had been more gruesome than the first. He had screamed at the top of his lungs during the night, scaring her out of her own nightmare. She had tripped going down the stairs, nearly plunging down them and cracking her skull open, but managed to catch herself and make it to Val's room in one piece. The boy was still screaming by the time she got there, and had curled himself into a ball on the floor. He would not talk about his nightmare this time, though it was clear it was more disturbing than the other.

Filia felt as though she were going mad. She wondered if perhaps she and Val didn't have some sort of disease that caused these dreadful nightmares, because she couldn't explain it otherwise. Nothing she did helped. She had taken Val to the village doctor, who told her to try some home remedies that he'd been taught and oh, they worked wonderful for _him_. But did they do anything for Val, or herself? She had tried them, as well, and that hadn't made a bit of difference.

She felt her eyelids closing again and fought to keep them open. She practically had to hold them open herself. She was so tired, and wanted nothing more than to just lay her head down and slip into peaceful oblivion...

"Wake up, Filia."

She let out a strangled cry, or a half of one once she realized who'd spoken out of the darkness. She frowned as he seemed to emerge from the shadows to sit next to her on the sofa.

"What do you want?"

"Touché. Really I'm starting to feel very unwanted. Here I am, to help you stay awake, and you give me such treatment."

"I don't need your help?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Really? Before I showed up you were about to fall asleep."

"No I wasn't," she argued, but ended the reply with a yawn. He smirked, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Not very ladylike, Filia," he said, grinning. "What book are you reading? I daresay most people look at the book while they're reading, not stare into space."

"I was thinking."

"About Val's nightmares?"

"What else would I be thinking about?"

"Me, of course."

She snorted. "Not likely."

She was silent a moment before she asked, "Do you think his nightmares are connected to mine?"

"Do you think they are?"

"No, at least I hope not. I don't want him to go through what I've been through with them."

"What has he dreamed?"

"Of strange things. Darkness. People trying to kill him. And about having claws and hurting me and others. He wouldn't tell me about this last nightmare."

"Odd for a child to dream such things."

"Of course it's odd. Val would never hurt anything, and I don't know why he would dream of people trying to kill him. Unless he feels threatened by something, but I don't know what it would be."

"It must just be a phase."

"I hope."

They were silent for a few moments before he saw she was nodding off again. He sighed and took the book away from her. She looked up, her eyes questioning.

"I think it's time for you to give up," he said.

She shook her head groggily. "No. I can't have another one. Just one night."

But she didn't protest when he pulled her down to where her head rested on his thigh. She didn't protest when he took the quilt from the back of the sofa and covered her with it. And he didn't protest when his hand began undoing the pins in her hair and smoothed the long, blond curls absent-mindedly.

She did, however, glance up at him with half-asleep eyes and mumbled, "What's wrong with you? You're not supposed to be like this."

"Am I not?" he asked.

"Mmm mmm."

"Just what am I supposed to be?" he whispered.

She sighed and shifted her weight to be more comfortable and murmured something he didn't understand before she began to snore softly. He continued smoothing her hair, wondering what he was doing.

Had he completely gone mad? It would appear that way. He wasn't doing her any good by being there, yet he wondered if perhaps he could grant her one night's peaceful rest.

He placed one hand on her forehead and closed his eyes, whispering words he had not uttered in a long time. A faint glow formed around the palm of his hand, and she stirred slightly under his touch but did not open her eyes. Finally the glow faded and he continued smoothing her hair once more to soothe her.

"Rest well, for once."

* * *

Filia awoke to the first light of dawn, alone. She rubbed her eyes and sat up, feeling stiff and sore, and almost voiced her complaint when she realized that she had slept the night through...with no nightmares. 


	15. The Truth

A/N: Looky, looky! Why, yes, this actually is an update! It's been way more than a year, and I suppose I was overdue. This chapter starts bringing things to a close, and there will be one, maybe two, more chapters to wrap it up. Lots and lots of angst in this chapter. I do hope it's to your liking. 

Chapter 15 – The Truth

Xelloss returned before sunrise one morning and entered her room, expecting to find her bed empty and indeed it was. He took his time going to the kitchen, where he would no doubt find her holding her head as though trying to keep it from splitting apart. Before her on the table would be a cup of strong coffee, which she had taken a liking to since the nightmares began. He would walk in unnoticed, but she would still be able to feel the shift in the air and without even realizing it she would cringe and wrinkle her nose.

She had slept peacefully two nights ago, when he had cast a simple sleep spell on her. The next morning she had looked refreshed and vibrant: a definite change. He had also been casting sleep spells on the boy to prevent the nightmares from returning and that night, Val had also slept peacefully. If Filia remembered, the result would be horrible enough without Val remembering his past, as well. He thought perhaps he should start casting sleep spells on them both each night. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it in the first place.

When he entered the kitchen, there she sat with her head in one hand and a coffee cup in the other, a small candle flickering in the center of the table. He had come to know her habits quite well all over again, and once again he found himself delighting in being able to predict her in his dark and twisted way. And he thought again, if only…but he knew "if only" was an empty thought. If only she hadn't come back, and a thousand other if-only's crossed his mind, and he banished them immediately.

He leaned against the window and watched her, knowing she couldn't see him, but she knew he was there. Oh yes, she knew. Normally she ignored him, but this morning something had changed. Perhaps when she acknowledged his presence.

"I know you're there, Xelloss."

He smiled and was about to utter his usual witty reply, and froze. Had she just said his name? Yes, he was sure she had. If he had a heart, he was sure it would have stopped right then and there and he really would be dead. Blissful, peaceful death. Sweet, endless darkness. Somehow he felt as if he were staring into that void at that moment.

"Just whom are you talking to, Filia?" he asked innocently, adding just the right touch of confusion. He was severely tempted to acknowledge his name, but he wasn't ready to give in. Not yet. He tried to convince himself it was a fluke. She didn't realize what she'd just said. Or maybe he heard wrong.

She looked up, and he saw the look in her eyes and knew she had not said it by accident.

She remembered.

"Don't play stupid with me," she said, her voice dangerously calm. "You always did that and it never worked, remember?"

He paused. Sighed. Finally he took a seat at the table across from her, and would never admit to the sudden feeling of fear rising up in his chest. He said nothing, deeming it best to let her talk. He still did not want to acknowledge her memories; he wanted to make her feel as though she were losing her mind. At least then…

"It's almost funny," she stated, rubbing her finger along the rim of her cup thoughtfully, staring at it as though it were the most fascinating thing in the world. "Because when I awoke this morning from my latest nightmare, it was as though a switch were turned on in my brain and suddenly I understood everything. They had long been trying to surface you know…those memories. My last moments. They wanted terribly to break free, and it can only be for one reason."

He was silent, watching her with guarded wariness. She smiled, almost peacefully, and uttered a small laugh. It wasn't an amused laugh.

"All this time, you knew," she said, her voice sharp as a knife. "All this time and you did nothing. Did you enjoy it, Xelloss? Did you enjoy watching me suffer? Did you enjoy watching me as I slept, drowning in my nightmares? I can only imagine the feast you acquired each night."

He did not answer her, but felt uneasy. This was completely unlike Filia to talk rather than act on her anger, and he wondered if remembering had really broken her. She looked mad, her eyes narrowed and dark in the dim candlelight. She looked completely mad.

"Did you enjoy the taste of my fear and confusion?" she continued, her eyes growing darker and darker. When he still said nothing, she surprised him by slamming her fist onto the table. The coffee cup spilled to the floor, glass shattered and scattering everywhere. She ignored it and stood to her feet and stood over him, screaming, "DID YOU? DID YOU, YOU HEARTLESS, WORTHLESS MONSTER! ANSWER ME!"

Finally he spoke, but the only words that could come out of his mouth were, "Mindful of the little one, Filia."

That apparently was the wrong thing to say, as he once again found himself the brunt of one furious, nearly homicidal former dragon priestess. Her hand balled up into a fist and before he could count to one second, she punched him with all of her strength. The chair he was sitting in was pushed backward and fell, and he reeled, catching himself with the heel of his foot before toppling over with it. He dodged the next throw easily, and the next, repressing an insane laughter that threatened to bubble up and out of him.

"HOLD STILL!" she roared. "I'm going to kill you, you bastard!"

"Such language, Filia," he taunted. He was sure that that quip would cause her to become more enraged, but she suddenly stopped and stared at him, her entire body shaking violently, her fists clenched tight, her face pinched into a glare. He watched and waited.

"Why?" she finally asked.

He cocked his head to one side quizzically. "Why? Why what? Why did I kill you?"

"Why did you kill Val?"

He stared at her in shock. She still believed he had killed Val? Hadn't she told him, just before she died in his arms, that she knew he had not killed the ancient dragon? Apparently, she had not yet remembered that part.

"Is that all you want to know, Filia?" he asked. "Or do you want to know why I was gone so long? Do you want to know how many golden dragons I killed? Or do you want to know if you really had fallen in love with a monster?"

"I never loved you. I would – could – **never** love a monster."

A tense silence followed, full of things both of them wanted to say. He felt the pressure in his chest tighten at her statement, yet his reply came easy. A confession he knew she would not believe.

"I didn't kill Val."

"YOU LIE!" she screamed, holding her head again as though it were going to explode. "I saw…I saw the blood…he was gone…you were there…"

He could see that she was starting to doubt herself, and thought that perhaps he might be able to convince her of his innocence (at least in that particular incident), but instead, the old Xelloss surfaced and he smiled an evil little smile.

"I _was_ there," he said. "And Val was gone, as you said. And wouldn't you like to know just what happened to him?"

"Get out," she whispered.

"It was a beautiful, spring day," he continued, ignoring her, his eyes distant and voice dreamy. "Remember the orchard near your house? It was full of ripe apples. Sweet, delicious apples. Little Val had wanted one so badly. Remember how he loved apples?"

"Get out!" she said, louder. She had begun to shake her head again, holding her hands over her ears, not wanting to hear what she knew would be a macabre tale.

"Gravos, who is now your quiet, lumbering servant, George, took Val down to the orchard to gather some apples. I imagine he was going to ask you to make applesauce later. Your applesauce was heavenly, Filia, even if I am a dark servant of evil who shouldn't delight in mortal delicacies such as that. I imagine they gathered their apples and went back to the house, where-"

"GET OUT!" she screamed, and ran at him again. This time he phased out, disappearing, and she tripped over the fallen chair, landing hard on the wooden floor. For a moment he had a painful flashback to a time when she had fallen to the floor, bloody and broken. But she wasn't broken, nor was she dead, but she was getting back up and there was a small trickle of blood on her forehead.

She stood to her feet and stared at him defiantly. Any trace of forgiveness that might have been in her heart before, any willingness to hear his side of the story, was gone. He knew that, and for a split second felt both gratitude and self-hatred. It passed, and he told himself that this was for the best.

"I don't want to ever see you again," she said quietly. "_**Ever**_."

So that was that, was it? Again he reminded himself that this was for the best. He opened his mouth to utter one final jab, but decided against it. Without another word, he disappeared, and was gone. Filia was left alone in her kitchen, and this time, she knew he would not return.

She lifted her hand to wipe the blood from her forehead and felt something wet on her cheeks. Tears. She wiped them away, too, and discovered more cascading down her face in torrents. She collapsed to the floor and wept bitterly until she passed out, exhausted.

Jacob and George found her as such later on that morning. They exchanged a worried glance before George quietly picked her up and carried her to her room. She stirred a little as he pulled the blankets around her shoulders, but did not awaken until later that afternoon.

* * *

When her eyes flew open, she didn't know where she was. The room was dark, and a glance at the balcony window told her that a particularly nasty storm was drifting in from the ocean. The sight of those threatening clouds in the distance made her shudder, and she realized she'd been shaking uncontrollably in the first place. Disoriented, she slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed and sat up, holding her head.

"Where…am I?" she said aloud, the sound of her own voice startling her a little. Her mind was hazy and confused. She was home…yet she wasn't home. Memories from a life long gone floated back and she couldn't distinguish the past from the present. She cried out in frustration and held her head, shaking it back and forth.

Underneath that confusion was a feeling that something terrible had happened. "Val…" she said, her voice breaking. "I've got to find Val."

Not even bothering with a housecoat, she stumbled downstairs, calling Val's name over and over. The house was completely silent and dark, lit briefly by lightning. Hadn't it been a night like this not too long ago that she'd met that loathsome monster again? Only she wasn't thinking about that…she was thinking about a day long, long ago when she'd come home one day to find the house empty and her kitchen counter covered with blood…her son's blood…

"VAL!" she screamed, frantic now, tears streaming down her face. Not again…no, Xelloss, not again. "Don't take him away from me again," she pleaded, not even sure if he was there. She was sobbing and near hysterics.

When she reached the kitchen door, she paused, not wanting to look inside and knowing she had to. Memories crowded around her, so thick she could have brushed them away from her face like flies. In her mind's eye she was seeing herself open the door. She took a few steps toward the counter and saw it, stopping, her body frozen. Saw the bloody knife on the counter. Saw apples…some cut, some whole. Saw herself reaching for the knife, her hand shaking.

"No…" she whispered. "Not again…"

But it was real and this was the present, not the past, and her nightmares were coming true.

At that moment, the door opened and she turned, expecting to see a hateful figure with dark, malevolent eyes and a cruel grin. Expecting to fling herself at him in pure rage and have him cut her down like he did before.

"Mama, look what I did!" Val exclaimed, the boy running to her, his tear-stained cheeks rosy red and so _alive_. As if she were dreaming, she watched with cloudy eyes as he held out his arm for her to show her where he'd cut himself.

"It hurt real bad and George said if we didn't wash it, it would get infested –"

"Infected," Jacob corrected, he and George entering the room behind the boy. "I'm awfully sorry, Miss Filia…" he continued, his hat in his hands. "The lad wanted some apples and we thought yer apple pie sounded right tasty. The poor chap cut 'imself on thet knife there and we took 'im outside afore he could bleed all over yer nice floor. We washed it out alright and thankfully t'won't be needin' stitches."

She stared at him dumbly, saying nothing. Her mind barely comprehended his words. A hateful voice inside of her asked if she was still dreaming. Somehow her mind registered that she was awake, and this wasn't a nightmare at all. The end to the nightmare. Val was alive.

She had absolutely convinced herself that Val was dead. In her heart of hearts she had somehow _known_…but she had been wrong. Her face crumpled and she collapsed to the floor, suddenly unable to stand.

Val watched his sobbing mother with no idea what was wrong with her. "Mama? Mama, what's wrong?" Concerned, the child touched her shoulder and she looked up at him, her eyes puffy and red. She smiled at him, at her beautiful little boy whom she loved dearly, and enveloped him in her arms. She held him and did not want to let go.

* * *

When the storm finally passed, she stood on her balcony, her shoulders shivering from the cold. She had finally calmed herself enough to help Jacob and George clean the blood from the floor and the counter and bandage Val's cut. Afterwards she had retreated back to her room, where she was drawn to the balcony and the clearing sky. Her thoughts were jumbled, broken, memories meshed together, but she was becoming more aware of just who she was.

The year was 1902. She was still Filia. Strange that her name had not changed from one life to the next…but she had changed. Or had she? Now that she remembered a life she once led, how could she ever be the same either way? Some things finally made sense, especially where Xelloss was concerned, and yet caused her more confusion in the end. In addition, what had occurred earlier that day had caused her to question her initial belief that Xelloss had, indeed, murdered her son ages ago.

Val was alive. That thought kept repeating in her head like a mantra, and she smiled. She only hoped he would not remember his past, as well. The results could be devastating. But then, Val hadn't had any interaction with Xelloss, that she knew of. She hoped.

Before Xelloss had left, he had been trying to explain himself and she hadn't let him. She'd been too consumed with anger to listen to anything; she'd only wanted him gone. And he had complied, a little too easily. Why?

She remembered her fatal encounter with him vividly, thanks to her nightmares. She remembered attacking him out of blind rage, uttering that spell. A spell that would have killed him, or at least injured him significantly. She had wanted to kill him at the time, so sure that her son was dead and he was to blame. But she couldn't exactly remember why she had believed it so strongly.

_The war. He was your enemy._

She shuddered, allowing those memories to flood over her. She remembered the war and how she had turned down the offer to join the battle. That decision had been the right one, she was sure of that, but at what price? She had made herself an enemy of both sides, and had spent each night and day in constant fear of not only her life but also the lives of those she loved.

But had he truly been her enemy? She remembered initially thinking that they could make it through the war and she could forget the carnage he caused. She could forget about how many he killed and all that he was capable of. But she couldn't, and in the end had not been able to truly trust him.

_Hadn't he warned you of that?_

Yes. He had never really expected her to trust him.

She felt more tears coming on and wiped them away furiously. She wasn't going to shed any tears in his absence. Even if he truly had not killed Val back then, he had been capable of it. She could never forget that.

_But don't you remember…just before the war…things had been different. He had been different._

She did remember, albeit reluctantly. Before the second war, she had been seeing a lot of him. And she remembered feeling less and less inclined to smash his face in. Sometimes things had been, dare she say, pleasant.

_Do you want to know if you really had fallen in love with a monster?_

She sighed and wondered what was wrong with her. Perhaps God or Fate or whoever controlled things had put her together with him for a reason. Hadn't she felt drawn to the house in the first place? Perhaps it had something to do with him. Even if she hated him, she supposed that if he returned, she would listen.

She thought he would return. How could he exist without torturing her? He'd been completely miserable when she'd first arrived. It hadn't taken long for him to come around and get back into the same routine of driving her to sheer madness.

Which made her wonder why had he helped her at all. She'd discovered her love for pottery again, and a steady income, with his help. He'd pushed her to continue. He'd had faith in her. He had no reason to do that…no opportunity for personal gain…except, of course, to torment her forever. She smiled slightly.

She'd even met the reincarnations of her friends with his help, which made her remember Gourry's sword of light and she wondered how it had managed to return to this world. That thought made her cringe a little, not wanting to see any more beings from another world. She'd rather forget that whole mess with Dark Star again. She prayed Val would also not remember it. _Please, no…_

It was interesting and a little scary. She'd been reunited with everyone she had known, even the Supreme Elder, who haunted her a little too closely. Why God or Fate had chosen to put her in the same bloodline as the Supreme Elder was something she would never figure out. Either way, she was glad to be out of his shadow once more. Also due to Xelloss' help, no less.

But to be reunited with her beloved adopted son, and Jillas and Gravos, was a fortune she couldn't have imagined would happen. Those short years with them in her previous life had been the happiest she'd ever known. This time, now, was even better. Perhaps now she would be able to watch Val grow into a promising young man. To live the life he had always deserved.

She felt her heart begin to lighten a little. As the setting sun warmed her face, she closed her eyes and smiled, spreading her arms out wide to catch the air, as though she were flying.

* * *

Later that night, she slept without dreaming. He only assumed so, judging by her silent form. No moans, no screams, nothing to indicate that her nightmares had returned. Her chest rose and fell calmly with each breath. Her lips were parted. His eyes were drawn to them as he wondered if this was the right thing to do.

He stood a few feet away from her bed, watching her, as he had been for hours, now. He found that he couldn't stop, couldn't look away, because he knew this would be the last time he would see her. He wasn't quite ready to leave yet.

How pathetic he was. He was thankful his master was not around to see this hideous display he had become. Not evil anymore, but he could never be good. It wasn't who he was. To do good would be to deny who he was. So why was he doing this? Could he honestly convince himself that he was leaving for his own benefit?

He had to leave. Not because she had ordered him to but because he had to. He had killed her once…if he stayed it would inevitably kill her again, one way or another. He couldn't bring himself to tell her to leave. He felt he was better off leaving the house to her, and she was better off without him.

"I guess this is good-bye, Filia," he said softly, knowing she wouldn't awaken. She was in a deep, deep sleep, but he knew she could hear him on some level. He knelt beside her bed and brushed a few strands of hair away from her face.

"It was pretty surprising, you know, seeing you walk up my sidewalk and barge in my house like you owned it. At first I couldn't believe it was you, but there's no mistaking you for anyone else. Even as a human. And then I saw Val and that confirmed it." He laughed a little. "I figured, just my luck. I'd been haunting this place for a long time, feeding on the fear of those unfortunate enough to move in. It wasn't a constant supply of negative energy, but occasionally I'd get the curious, the fearless, and the more common skeptic."

She slept on, and he continued. "I truly did want you to leave, at first. I somehow knew that it would end like this, and for some reason I didn't want that. I had hoped that your memories wouldn't return, but I suppose when you're surrounded by remnants of the past, there's no possibility of avoiding it. I should have left. I should have left that first night, without even revealing myself to you. You could have proven that muddleheaded Calloway wrong, after all." He laughed again. "He probably wouldn't have been convinced."

He sighed, suddenly finding it hard to continue. "Filia, I…can't take back what happened, what I did to you, back then. There will always be a part of me that enjoys pain and fear and suffering, and you know I can't change that. But I never meant to hurt you. If you only knew how far I went to keep them away from you and Val. Jillas had been an accident, and believe me, the ones who did it paid for it. But now, the war is over, Filia. There will be more wars; you can count on that. But for now…"

He paused, the words heavy on his tongue. "Be at peace."

He stood then, and laid a hand on her forehead. He murmured a few unintelligible words and then leaned down to brush his lips against hers softly. He withdrew, his face inches from hers. She still slept, her breathing even, but her lips moved, pressed together, tasting his kiss.

"When you awake tomorrow morning, you will remember nothing of me. You will remember nothing of your past life, which ended rather tragically. You never had a past life. As far as you're concerned, past lives are a direct contradiction of the gospel and you'll have nothing to do with such rubbish. Any feeling of déjà vu can be brushed aside as a coincidence. In addition, the rumors that this house is haunted are the ramblings of your deranged landlord."

He stopped. Sighed again. "Live well, Filia, and be at peace. You deserve it."

And then he was gone. The room was silent as she slept on.


End file.
